The Ghost's Daughter
by PaintingStars
Summary: Even without a title, the London social season has been calling Ophelia's name. It's finally her chance to step out into the "real world" of galas, dinners, and not to mention a few underground parties. And it seems all fun and games until she meets a rebellious young duke with a smile as smooth as silk and the attitude to match. A/N: Spin-off of Cold Nights, but can be read alone.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome, everyone! I didn't think I'd be back so soon, but here we are again! If you haven't already read Cold Nights, you might want to go back and give that a read first. It's definitely not necessary, but some things mentioned might be a little confusing at times. For the most part, though, I wanted to keep this as separated from Cold Nights as possible, since it's a spin-off as opposed to a sequel. I also wanted to add that I did adjust the timeline slightly. This begins in January, 1912, and prior to the events of the Cold Nights Epilogue, which took place September, 1910. Sorry for any confusion that might cause, and enjoy the show.**

"Ophelia, darling?"

She looked up from her book, her glasses dangling precariously off her nose. She hadn't heard her father come up, but she never heard his movements, for that matter. She closed the book and pulled the round frames from her face. "You can come in, papa."

The handle turned and he stepped into the room. He stood halfway in shadow, not surprising to her. The room was mostly dark, except for the light coming in the window she was sitting beside. Even though they've seen each other her entire life, and she had seen what was underneath countless times, he kept his mask directed away from her as often as possible. "I've just gotten off the phone with Adelaide."

"Oh! I didn't even hear the phone ring. What did Addie say?"

"She was inviting you to come stay with her in London for a few months, since it's her first season. She seemed very excited. She wanted to know if you would like to debut with her, since you wont be able to be presented to court."

She blushed slightly, taken back at the notion. The idea of white gowns, difficult curtseys, and being handed off to as many eligible bachelors as possible made her more than nervous. Addie had gushed about it her entire life, but she was never interested. It seemed like an awful lot of trouble for no reason. She rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. "Do you really…"

"Yes, I do. I think you should do it, Ophelia. You know enough about being in…polite society. You're old enough to be eligible, in my own opinion, you're a grown woman, you know. Your mother was only a few years older than you are now when she met me." His lips twitched, and his expression changed slightly. Any time he spoke of her mother his voice seemed to get quieter, sadder. "I know I can't give you much, but for whatever it's worth, you still come from your mother's family. Even if you don't have her title because of me, you have their blood… It must be worth something. Adelaide wouldn't have invited you to London if she didn't think you deserved this too. Besides that, I want you to find someone who can take of you, after I'm gone."

"Oh goodness, papa." She sighed, a mix of sympathy and exasperation. "I've told you I don't care about having a title. I don't need a title. And I don't want to pretend I'm not your daughter, either. I like caring for you."

"I still want you to go, Ophelia. Even just for fun. Make some connections, find some new books, try out new foods, just enjoy yourself. Go. Even if it's just to visit your cousins. I want you to see outside of this apartment for once."

She shifted in her seat, slightly. She did want to see Addie, she was the closest thing she had to a best friend. And she did feel restless, she was tired of wandering the same Parisian streets over and over again. Finally she let out a sigh. "I suppose I'll go… I'll call Addie in the morning."

"Don't bother, I've already told her yes." He smiled with a sharp wink, and stood. "Now. Dinner will be ready soon, so I suppose you should get dressed."

The sky was still dim when she finally crawled out of bed, dawn barely stretching it's fingers into the sky. Eva, her lady's maid, had helped her toss her messy bedhead into a semblance of a style, and helped her get dressed in her usual traveling clothes. There wasn't much left to do, really. Most of her things had been brought down stairs, but there were a few bits and bobs waiting to be carried down.

Once the chauffeur came, she and Eva carried the last two hat boxes down to the street and put them with the rest of he things. The street was quiet, save for only few people walking from place to place, minding their own business. The chauffeur offered his hand to help her into the car, but her father cleared his throat behind her.

"Were you going to leave without even saying goodbye?"

She turned and smiled, letting go of the chauffeur's hand. "Of course not, papa. Your bedroom door was closed, I didn't want to wake you up."

"You couldn't have woken me up if I wasn't asleep. I've been worrying all night."

"Worrying? It's only England, papa, it's not like it's America."

"You're still leaving me, I'll miss you."

"I'll come back to visit, of course, I wont be gone forever. I'll miss you too, papa."

The chauffeur cleared his throat behind her then, his watch in his hand. "We really must get going, mademoiselle. We don't want to be late."

"Yes, of course." She turned to look at her father, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll be sure to telephone. Make sure to take care of yourself."

He hugged her back tightly, and finally pulled away. "I love you, darling. Enjoy yourself."

"I love you too, papa." The chauffeur helped her into the car, and she leaned out the open window, after the door was shut. She kissed him on the cheek one more time and smiled, as the car began to pull away. She waved and he watched as the car drove further away. "I'll see you soon!"

She finally sat back in her seat, after the car had finally turned the corner. She turned to look at Eva. She looked rather uncomfortable, her hands folded in her lap, her thumbs fidgeting with a loose string on her gloves.

"Have you ever been to London, Eva?"

"No, mademoiselle, I've never left Paris before."

"We'll England will be a great adventure for you. For the both of us." She smiled and laid her hand on top of Eva's, hoping to calm her nervousness. "I promise you'll love London. We'll be in the countryside quite often, as well. It will be nice to get some fresh air."


	2. Chapter 2

"Ophelia!"

She had barely stepped from the car before she was being practically strangled by a pair of slender arms. Addie had burst from the door like a bat out of hell with a grin stretching from ear to ear. It was as if she were being smacked in the face by the scent of childhood, memories flooding back of long summers in the London House. Any regret she had of coming instantly disappeared.

"I can't believe you're finally here!" She finally pulled away, her brown eyes crinkled by her smile. They could have easily been sisters, despite Addie's dark hair and eyes. Most people assumed so when they were younger, before Ophelia had begun taking on some of her father's features. She grabbed her hand, with a smile, leading her inside. "I've been waiting by the window all morning."

It looked the same as ever, it's bright white stucco against the cloudy sky and contrasted by Eaton Square's lush garden on the opposite side of the street. Even the stones felt familiar under her feet as she was dragged inside. Parker, the butler, stood by the door, his chin tilted upwards. She smiled brightly when she saw him, he had gotten her out of a pickle many times before, and she was glad to see him again.

"Hello, Parker! How have you been since I've seen you last?" He was usually very stony-faced, but he seemed genuinely happy to see her again. Her English was a bit rusty, but he smiled just the same.

"I've been well, Miss Ophelia."

"I'm so glad. I was wondering, do you mind keeping an eye out for Eva, my maid? I want her to get on well."

"Not at all, Miss."

"Thank you, Parker."

She didn't have the chance to say anything else, as she was already being pulled up the staircase by Addie's seemingly steel grip. She pulled her down the hall and then into her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes, letting go of her arm and plopped down onto the bed.

"I have _so_ much to tell you."

"About your presentation?" She sat down at Addie's vanity, pulling out her hat pins, and tucking a loose curl back into place. She smiled at her cousin through the mirror. "Was it as lovely as you expected?"

"Oh, it was _fabulous._ The palace was beautiful, not surprisingly. I felt like royalty, waltzing up the stairs with my train and veil. Thank goodness father has a high enough title that I didn't have to wait too long. Some girls were there for _hours_. But anyway, it was like a blur once they called my name. I was so nervous, I hardly remember meeting the king and queen." She giggled and continued, "But anyway, I don't want to bore you. I'm _so_ excited for tonight. It will be so much fun. Mother and father have invited the very best of the best, and you'll practically have the pick of the lot."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you would have the pick before I would. After all, you are the one with the title. And not to mention how beautiful you are."

"Oh, I haven't told you, have I?" She let out a dramatic sigh and draped herself across the bed, clutching her hands to her heart. "I find myself positively enamored with the most wonderful gentleman. An Earl! He speaks five different languages His family owns a summer home in _Italia._ He's absolutely dashing, and _desperately_ in love with me."

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrow, with a smile. "Is that so?"

"It is! You'll get to meet him at the party." She turned onto her stomach and lowered her voice, giving her sultry eyes. "Maybe you'll find someone who will be just as adored as I."

"Oh please." Ophelia rolled her eyes. "I'm not even here to meet someone. I'm here to visit you."

"Uh huh. Whatever you say."

She twisted her glove nervously as Eva adjusted her hair pin. It was a delicate thing her father had given her for a her birthday a few years previous. It was shaped like a grasshopper, with iridescent wings that felt as if they could shatter at the slightest touch.

Eva put away the rouge and powder on the vanity and picked up the bottle of her "nice perfume."

"I don't know why I'm so nervous." She laughed slightly, waving dry the perfume on her neck. She picked up her mother's locket and Eva helped her clasp it around her neck. She smoothed her skirt with shaky hands. "It's only a party, really."

"I think it will be nice for you to try something new." Eva smiled at her through the mirror.

"Yes, you're right. It doesn't have to mean anything. It'll just be a new adventure." She took a deep breath to shake off the nervousness. "So. Did you make any plans for tonight?"

"Oh, no." She blushed. "I thought I would stay in case you needed me for anything, and to help you get ready for bed. In the meantime I could get your jewelry put away properly and begin sorting your dress-"

"Oh no, definitely not!" Eva looked flabbergasted. "I can get myself ready for bed just fine, and the jewelry can wait until another time. You deserve the night off. Go explore London! Have some fun."

"Are you sure that's a good idea…"

"Absolutely. I want you to have fun. It's your night off, enjoy it."

There was a knock at the door then and Parker's gruff voice came through the door. "They're waiting for you downstairs, Miss Ophelia."

She stood and squeezed Eva's hand. "Go enjoy yourself. Wish me luck."

Parker opened the door for her as she stepped out into the hallway. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She could hear the music and voices drifting from downstairs much more clearly now. Her fingertips brushed against her locket and she made her way towards the grand staircase.

The crowd hushed as she came into view. Her heart stopped for a moment as she saw the massive crowd watching her. Addie had made her entrance only a few minutes before hers, and now she stood at the bottom of the steps, smiling from ear to ear. She felt immediately out of place, seeing these elegantly dressed people, all of some form of nobility. Her dress was elegant, yes, and her father definitely had money, but she was nothing to these people. She made a decision then, reaffirming what she told herself before leaving Paris. She would, at the very least, have fun. And besides, she might as well give them something to talk about.


	3. Chapter 3

She sipped the glass of wine in her hand and looked around anxiously. She was sure someone else would come by any moment now to whisk her into another waltz. People swirled around the room while others chatted along the outside. Addie had so far spent almost the entire night in the arms of her beau, who she now learned was named Arthur. He _was_ very dashing, and definitely charming. But he seemed genuinely interested in Adelaide, and that's all that really mattered to her.

She sighed as another one of her Uncle's friends made his way across the room towards her, with a very determined look upon his face. Her back groaned in complaint as she adjusted her slowly slouching posture, and she turned to set her glass of wine on the table behind her. Unfortunately, her movement just so happened to be blocked by someone's dinner jacket. She managed to steady the glass before much could be spilled, but some still managed to splash onto his white shirt.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry…" She was quick to fetch her handkerchief to soak up the mess, but he grabbed her wrist after a few frantic dabs. She froze and the grip immediately loosened as his hand moved from her wrist to her hand. His touch was suddenly as light as a feather as he drew her hand to his lips.

"Don't be."

She finally managed to get a look at the face of the man whom she spilled her drink all over. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as blood rushed to her cheeks. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was looking up at her with icy blue eyes that were framed by dark brows and lashes. His lips were pressed against her hand for what felt just a moment too long to be appropriate, and then twisted into a slight smirk as he stood up straight.

"My name's William. And you're Ophelia, right?"

She could only muster out a nod and a squeaky 'oui,' only too late to correct herself. His lips spread into a smirk that made her heartbeat skyrocket, but it didn't last long. His gaze was suddenly lifted from her as a man cleared his throat behind her. She turned, and the man who had been walking towards her introduced himself and nodded politely at William. Before she knew it, she was pulled into another dance with another old man, without being able to even make a true apology. Her cheeks still felt warm as the man was clumsily spinning her around the room.

Once they were finally waltzed their way back to the other side of the room, William was gone. She looked around the room as the man chatted her ear off. She thought she might have seen a flash of dark curly hair walking away from the balcony above the room, but she was distracted by Addie, who happened to be swirling next to her now. her lips were moving, but she couldn't quite tell what she was saying. She squinted slightly, as she exaggerated her mouth movements. Slowly, she pieced together what she was saying. 'We need to talk right now.'

One the dance finally ended, she made her way across the room to the tiny nook beside the staircase where Addie was waiting. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. "Ophelia! Do you know who that was you were just talking to?"

"I thought he was just one of your father's friends…he didn't talk about anything interesting. He was the one who-"

"No, not him!" She gave her an exasperated look. "The one you _spilled your drink on!_ God, I can't believe you did that!"

"Wait, you mean William?" She raised an eyebrow nervously. "Why? Who is he?"

"William! Ha! That's William Astor. Only the _Duke of Highcaster_. He's kind of a _big deal_ and you spilled your drink all over him! I don't even know how my parents got his family to come…"

"A Duke? Really? I didn't even say anything to him. I just kept apologizing." Her cheeks grew red as she glanced around the room.

"It doesn't matter now. But he is _bad_ news, Ophelia. I saw they way you were blushing. Don't go making googly eyes at him, now. He's an absolute flirt. Trust me. He ruined Elizabeth Hansbury's entire season last year. She was completely heartbroken. Don't you dare fall for his tricks, promise me, Ophelia. He's no good."

"Promise." But she was already distracted, scanning the room again, thinking she had seen a stained jacket passing by.

"Ophelia!" She smacked her on the arm. "Did you even listen to me?"

She turned back to Addie, rubbing her arm. She grimaced, and stuck her tongue out at her cousin. She had only wanted to apologize to him and offer reimbursement for the ruined jacket. She felt like an idiot, but she didn't want anything else from the situation, especially not what Addie was implying. "Fine. I wont bother with him. Promise."

"You better not, Ophelia. Now if you'd excuse me." She gave her one last stern look, and turned back for the next dance with Arthur.

Ophelia huffed and leaned against the wall for a moment, straightening her posture when someone passed by. The room was getting warm and she was regretting spilling her wine, hoping a footman would pass by soon. She startled slightly as Uncle Henri cleared his throat beside her. She turned to see him standing with a blonde gentleman, who didn't look much older than she.

"Ophelia, may I introduce you to Lord Tarrin? His uncle was a patron at the Opera House, and I thought you would like to meet."

"Oh!" She smiled at the lanky boy. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"A pleasure, I'm sure. Would you like to dance?" He offered her a hand and smiled, his straight teeth glistening at her.

"I'd be delighted." She took the boy's hand, and smiled at her uncle before following him onto the floor. A cheerful waltz was playing, and thank goodness this Lord Tarrin happened to be a good dancer. "So, Do you like music? Or rather, opera?"

"Oh yes." He smiled. "I've been to the Paris Opera many times. Is your father a patron?"

"Oh." She blushed, this time out of embarrassment. She hadn't thought about her father, and definitely did not develop any sort of excuse or explanation. "He's not exactly a patron…He's…just a good friend of the opera, I suppose. I've spent my entire life in the Palais. Our home is connected to the opera."

"Is that so? I consider myself quite the francophile, and have been to Paris numerous times, especially the Opera. I hadn't known anyone lived there." He paused for a moment, as if calculating his next move. "Perhaps this isn't proper, but do you mind if I ask what your father does?"

"My father has money, if that's what you're asking me. Just not a title."

"Oh goodness, no, I just-"

"Don't worry about it. My father composes music for the Opera. He's very well known. And my mother's father was an earl, if that's what was concerning you. She was Henri's sister, the only daughter. And she chose love instead of a title."

"I'm sorry If I've offended you." His brow crinkled, but she waved dismissively. "But I think that's very nobel. Romantic. Très parisienne."

"Yes…" She paused. "I suppose so."


	4. Chapter 4

She groaned in relief as she kicked off her shoes, kicking them across the bedroom floor. Lord Tarrin, or rather, Robert, as she learned, had kept her dancing throughout the night, raising at least a few speculative eyebrows from her family members. She didn't mind. She didn't necessarily mean anything by dancing with Lord Tarrin, but she liked stirring up a little gossip every once in a while. And he was very handsome, she wouldn't deny that. He was by no means out of shape, and was very easy on the eyes. Best of all, it seemed he could hold a conversation.

She managed to wiggle her way out of her dress, leaving it in a puddle of gossamer around her ankles. Pulling on the silk kimono her father had given her, she slipped back into the hallway. She half-expected Addie to already be waiting for her. She didn't need to guess that Addie would want to gossip, their late-night chats were ritual by now.

The stair case was completely silent as she made her way down the hall, a stark contrast to the lively party that only ended an hour prior. She padded down the hall, stopping just short of Adelaide's bedroom. While the room was dark beneath the door, she was certain she heard voices coming from the other side. She raised her hand to knock, but paused as another voice spoke up behind the wood. A nervous lump immediately rose in her throat. She leaned closer to the door, holding her breath. She could only hear Addie's breathy giggling at first, but it was soon followed by the deep grumble of Arthur's voice. It was unintelligible, but undoubtedly his. And undoubtedly inappropriate to listen in on.

She backed away from the door quickly, her cheeks flushing red. She bumped into a bust on the opposite side of the hall, but straightened it quickly before it fell. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop, especially not on Addie. But she was at the very least shocked at the situation. She turned on her heels, quick to make her way back to her room.

She jumped slightly as she passed the grand staircase. Esther, the girl she recognized as Addie's lady's maid, froze, shocked to see anyone on the stairwell.

"I'm terribly sorry to frighten you, Miss Ophelia."

"Oh, don't be. It's late and I was only coming from Adelaide's room."

"I was just on my way to-"

"Oh, no! I mean…" She paused, "Only, Adelaide is already asleep it seems. Theres no reason to bother her now. I'm certain she won't mind if you just come and help her tomorrow morning. But be certain to knock first. That is, you know how she can be in the morning…"

"Yes, of course, Miss Ophelia…Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes… Tonight was just overwhelming. In fact, if you don't mind, could I bother you to send up some tea?"

"Yes, of course, Miss."

"Thank you."

She scurried to her room after Esther made her way back down the stairs. Her cheeks were still flushed. She didn't care what Addie was or wasn't doing, but she had no idea how she could face her in the morning. Especially not at breakfast with her parents. If there was one thing her father didn't teach her, it was how to be covert about these kinds of things. She bit her lip, knowing she didn't have a choice in the matter. But she couldn't _not_ talk to her about it. They shared everything.

She carried her plate back to her seat and sat down, crossing her ankles. Uncle Henri was scanning the newspaper, and the room was otherwise completely silent. She took a bite of toast, flipping through last week's edition of _La Mode._ She sighed inwardly, already feeling destitute without Paris. She took pride in following the most modern trends, and London, while fashionable, wasn't nearly as adventurous as she would have liked. She flipped the page and sipped her coffee, already absorbed in the latest article about harem pants.

"Good morning." Addie had finally made her way into the dining room, kissing her father on the cheek and pausing to put together her plate.

"Good morning, darling."

Ophelia peeked over her magazine, leaving her thumb over where she had stopped reading. The tiniest smirk danced on her lips for a moment. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, wonderfully." Addie sat across from her. "Did you?"

"Oh, I slept fine." She flipped to the next page, glancing up at her cousin. She was bouncing her knee, shaking the tablecloth slightly. "When did Arthur leave last night? I didn't get the chance to say goodbye."

"Oh…" She paused for a moment, trapped. "Awfully late, but there were so many people, I don't know when exactly. I can't really remember… You know how things go."

"I suppose I do. That's why I didn't bother you last night. It being a late night and all." She glanced up at her, biting her lip, suppressing a giggle.

Addie's eyes narrowed before suddenly popping wide, her cheeks instantly flushing. She sat down her tea and cleared her throat. "Right. Well…"

"You're welcome." She returned to her magazine, taking another sip of coffee. Addie made the move to say something, but thankfully Parker walked in with the morning post.

"Here you are, my lord." He offered down a letter which sat upon a tray, along with a letter-opener.

"Do I have anything there, Parker?" Addie sat forward in her seat.

"I'm afraid not, my lady, although you did receive a call this morning from Lady Squire asking for you and Miss Ophelia to join her on the promenade this afternoon."

"Oh, of course. That sounds lovely. Thank you, Parker."

"And for you Miss Ophelia, a package arrived this morning. It's waiting in the foyer until you would like it."

"Oh? Who is it from?"

"The package is from Selfridge's but I daresay the sender is unknown."

"Oh. Well, just bring it in, Parker. I can open it now."

He nodded and stepped out of the room, only to return with a long, flat box. She moved her coffee out of the way and he sat the box in front go her. She pulled the ribbon from the box and paused, her fingertips holding on to the edges of the lid. She couldn't remember ordering anything, and she was sure her father wouldn't have ordered anything from an English shop. She pulled the lid off, and gasped slightly.

Folded within the box was a pale lavender dress, made from the softest silk she had ever felt. The dress itself was embellished with white lace that seemed delicate enough to fall apart at the touch. Small pearls followed the lace down the sloping back and neckline. She was frozen for a moment, taking in the sheer beauty of the dress. She picked up the small card that laid on top of the dress.

The note was written in admittedly poor French, with a long scrawling script.

 _Dear Miss Poirier,_

 _I sit here, pen in hand, rendered speechless after making your acquaintance last night. I hope you do not find me too out of turn writing this letter. I have found myself at a loss for words, unable to express how humbled I am to have met you. I caught myself walking along the avenues, and immediately thought of you after seeing this displayed in a window. I hope you do not find this gift too forward, as I never wish it to be. I hope you do allow me to call upon you again._

 _Until then,_

 _Robert Dunseth, Viscount of Lewes_

"Wow." Addie peeked into the box after reading the letter as well. "He must _really_ like you."

"I can't take this." She put the lid back onto the box, shaking her head. "This is too much. Much too much. I danced with him, that's all. I don't understand."

Her uncle finally piped up, folding the newspaper. "He does have prospect, Ophelia. He is a viscount."

"But I don't care about his prospects. This is too much." She bit her lip, crossing her arms. "I have to send it back."

"You can't just _send it back._ That's so rude!"

"Well I can't keep it!"

"I think he deserves at least a chance."

"Father is right. At least give him a chance." Addie handed her the box. "At least try it on."

She groaned, taking the box into her arms. "Fine. I'll give him a chance. But I didn't come here for this. Not one bit."

"Just keep telling yourself that."


	5. Chapter 5

"It really is a lovely dress."

"I can't believe he sent you something so lavish."

"You said you had only met him last night?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes at Martha and Addie. "You are both such gossips. I didn't even want to accept the dress. I mean, we only _danced_ , I don't see where he got such ideas about me."

"Well, at least he's handsome. Maybe he just likes you. Plus, you could be a countess. I'd mark that one as a win."

"But I don't _care_ about that." She paused to open her parasol as the sun stretched it's way across the sky. "And please do _not_ bring marriage into the picture."

"Did you at least write him back?"

"I told him that I wasn't sure about anything, but I would at least like to see him again, only to thank him for the dress."

"So you _do_ like him." Martha giggled, holding her fingers to her lips.

"I do _not,_ Martha. You are such an enabler, Adela-"

"Isn't that the duke you spilled your drink on last night?"

"Oh god. I had forgotten about that." She looked up to see him with a gaggle of other gentlemen, not too far ahead of them. She picked at the pearls on her dress, her heart rate steadily rising. "Do you think he'll notice us?"

"Oh, I'm certain." Martha gave her a playful nudge before calling to the duke. "William Astor, is that you?"

He stopped for a moment, just ahead of them, and turned around. His lips curled into a breezy smile. She felt her heart immediately make a little flutter. He paused, waving his group on, and waited for the girls to meet him.

"I didn't expect to see you today, Martha." He turned to the other girls, a smile still playing on his lips. "I hadn't expected to see you either, Lady Adelaide, Miss Ophelia. Did your evenings end well?"

"Oh yes. Positively. And yours?" She pushed a loose lock behind her ear. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rise, the spilled drink on loop in her mind.

"Quite well, might I say. Despite the stained dinner jacket." His lips twitched upwards slightly.

"I was hoping to talk to you about that." Her mouth rounded into a slight grimace. "You disappeared before I could find you, last night."

"We can talk all you want," he glanced up at the other girls. "If you ladies don't mind."

"Oh, no!" Martha and Addie shared the same, surprised expression. Suddenly Addie elbowed Martha. She smiled politely, giving Ophelia a knowing glance. "We don't mind at all."

"Oh no, we can stay with them…" The heat in her cheeks increased.

"I insist." His pace shortened, allowing their speed to slow as the girls continued ahead. "That is, if you didn't mind."

"No…I don't mind." She bit her lip. "About your jacket, I w-"

"Don't worry about the jacket." He waved a hand. "I can easily get another."

"Now it's my turn to insist." She tilted her chin upwards, waiting to refute any opposition.

His lip twitched slightly. He wanted to fight her on it, she could tell, but he dropped the argument. His mouth tilted into an impressed smirk. "If you insist."

"I do." She smiled and closed her parasol, returning it to her side.

There was a a long stretch of silence between them. She didn't do well with silence, not when it was between two people. She and her father weren't the most talkative types, but the silence was never awkward between them. She fidgeted with her dress, picking at a pearl. She could practically hear Addie chiding her for being "unladylike." She dropped the fabric and smoothed it down. She felt a weird lump in her stomach form as she pulled her hands away from her dress. She felt like she was somehow lying, walking with a man while she wore the dress another man had given her. It was stupid really, neither man owned her, and neither man meant anything to her, but she still felt _wrong._

"Where did you disappear to last night?" The words burst from her mouth, almost foreign on her tongue. She hadn't expected to say anything, especially nothing that sounded so accusatory. She softened her tone. "I couldn't find you after I got pulled away."

"I had only gone to clean myself up and fetch you a new drink. Although, I'm not entirely sure you needed any more drinks at that point." He chuckled at his own joke before continuing. "By the time I had gotten back, you seemed fairly preoccupied with another gentleman."

"Are you implying I was drunk?" She was slightly taken aback. _I was not and am not a drunk._

"I had only assumed you weren't in your best of wits." That smirk flashed across his lips again, although it was not nearly as endearing as it had been just moments before. "I'm not one to judge someone's habits. Besides that fact, I know plenty well how to have fun, I'm not here to persecute you."

"I was not _drunk!"_ She huffed, just loud enough to garner more than a few judgmental glances. A snicker came from a man passing by. Her cheeks flushed even darker, more akin to a tomato that her own skintone. She dropped her voice to nearly a whisper that came out more like a hiss. "I _was not_ drunk."

"Whatever you say, princess." He flashed her his typical crooked smile. "But if you _are_ looking for an escape from the hum-drum, let me know. I know where the real excitement is."

"What excitement?" Her voice was cautious, pausing for a moment.

His lips twitched again. Instead of answering, he took her hand, pulling her to a stop, just in front of where she was to have lunch with the others. She stopped, confused.

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur?" She paused at her slip, correcting herself. "Your Grace?"

"William, please." He pulled her hand to his lips, just as he had the night before. "Have a good day, Miss Ophelia."

"Wait, you're leaving?" She took a step towards him. "What did you mean?"

He gave a polite nod to her, ignoring her question, his smirk still tinting her lips. "Have a lovely afternoon, Miss Ophelia."


	6. Chapter 6

Ophelia breathed a sigh of relief once her father finally picked up the telephone. She crossed her ankles, one hand holding the receiver to her ear, the other arm draped across her lap.

"Oh, papa. Hello!"

"Hello, darling. I was wondering when you would finally call me. How is London?"

"It's just lovely, but definitely busy. I haven't had a single moment to spare until now. How are you? How is home?"

"I'm fine. It's been quiet, as always. Much quieter without you here. Tell me more. How was your soirée?"

"Just fine," she laughed, glancing at the rain outside. "I spilled a glass of wine on a duke. I had no idea who he was until Addie chewed me out. Oh! And this other man, a viscount, rather, bought me a dress after the ball. Can you imagine? What do you think he was thinking? I danced with him, but I wasn't all over him, by any means!"

"Well, to me, it sounds like he likes you very much, Ophelia." There was a strange sound to his voice, a sadness; her heart dipped slightly. She felt badly for her father, she knew he would dig himself into a depressed pit, at nearly any chance he could.

"He's alright. He takes a very keen interest on the opera, actually. He says his uncle was once a patron at the Palais. Could you think of a stranger coincidence?" There was a pause over the line. For a moment she thought the connection was lost, unable to hear even her father's breathing.

"His uncle? You said this boy was a viscount?"

"Honestly, papa, you know I don't care about titles. And he's _hardly_ a boy." She paused to sip her tea. "I told him about you and maman, or rather, he asked. He's definitely a romantic, he thought your story was the most novel thing he's ever heard."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Well, no."

"He sounds like he likes you very much. I think, at the very least you should give him a chance, as long as you want to. You're like myself, Ophelia. Learn to open up to others a little bit more. It worries me."

She rolled her eyes, Her father was well-meaning, but she simply wasn't interested in others. "Of course, papa. Remember what you said? Just go to have fun, not to find a husband."

"I know, I know, I just want you to get on well in England. And I don't want you holed up in that house reading all day, either. Are you getting out often?"

"Yes, papa. I was out just this afternoon. Addie and I met Martha Squire, I believe you know her, on the promenade. We only just returned from lunch an hour ago." She sipped her tea again, watching as Parker passed through the foyer with the afternoon post, glancing her way.

"Good, good. Now, I almost forgot, is there anything you needed sent to the house? I wasn't sure if you had forgotten-"

"Just a moment, papa." She sat her tea down, and covered the receiver. "Is there anything in the post for me, Parker?"

"Yes, just one letter, Miss Ophelia." He stood beside her as she took the letter opener from his tray, quickly slicing through the envelope, and returned it.

"Thank you, Parker." She smiled. "Papa says hello."

He nodded politely, taking her empty cup and saucer, and leaving the room. She returned the phone to her ear and began unfolding the letter. "Sorry for the interruption, what was it you were saying?"

"Who was I saying hello to?"

"It was just Parker, you remember him, yes?" She laughed, scanning the letter in her lap.

"Oh, of course. Anyway, I was wondering if you needed me to send you anything you might've-"

She stopped listening as she scanned through the letter. The handwriting was unfamiliar, sharp and slightly untidy, yet not unattractive. There wasn't much written on the page. The letter opened with "Miss Ophelia," below which was a hastily written address and time, "a red herring," and little to no explanation. A small arrow pointed her towards the opposite side of the paper, where a few lines were scribbled down. _If you're truly looking for a real party._ Just below that was another line, simply saying: _p.s. Wear a mask._

"Ophelia?"

She nearly dropped the phone as her father repeated her name.

"Papa? I have to go, I'll call you tomorrow." She hurried to fold the letter and stood.

"Ophelia? Is everything alright?"

"Goodbye, papa. I love you." She hung up the phone before her father could even respond. Her heart felt like it was doing little jumps in her chest. She held the letter to her chest and hurried up the stairs to Addie's room, not even bothering to knock before entering.

"Ophelia!" Addie gasped slightly, in little more than her underwear, obviously not expecting the sudden visitor. Her lady's maid paused, holding her dress for tonight's dinner.

"Do you mind giving us a moment?"

The maid paused, but Addie nodded her away. Once the door shut behind her, she turned to frown at her. "What is this about? Couldn't it wait for me to be dressed?"

"What do you know about this?" She unfolded the letter and handed it to her cousin. There was a long pause as her cousin's eyes quickly scanned the letter.

"Oh my goodness." Her eyes shot up from the paper, her expression more in awe than in anger. "Who sent this?"

"The duke, I think. He mentioned something about knowing the 'real excitement' when we spoke this morning."

"Do you _know_ what this is, Ophelia?"

She shook her head. She had never seen Addie's eyes so big.

"It's only an invitation to _the_ most exclusive party of the season. People wait _years_ just hoping to be invited to this party. It's completely secret and impossible to get into."

"Have you been invited before?"

She was met with a loud laugh. "Of course not! Sure, my father's an earl, but that doesn't mean I'm some sort of big deal in society. This is for the elite of the elite."

"Then why did he invite me?"

"I have no clue, but he has to really like you to invite you to this." She paused. "What are you going to wear? Do you have a mask?"

This was Ophelia's turn to laugh. "Of course I have masks, don't you know my father?"

Addie didn't respond, her face twisting into a strange expression. She was always uncomfortable with humor at her father's expense, she usually reserved herself to pity and the occasional quiet comment or question about his condition. Ophelia just rolled her eyes, her father was touchy, that didn't mean she had to be.

"Fine, fine. I do have a few masks just incase, though. Do you need one?"

"Wait, you're inviting me to come along?" Addie's soured expression quickly turned into one of surprise.

"Well of course. Why wouldn't I? Hell, I'll milk this for whatever it's worth. Why don't you call up Martha and Arthur? Maybe we can get them in as well."

"I'm sure Martha will already be there, their families have been friends for decades. She's gone to every one since she was 16. I'll give Arthur a call before we go in for dinner."

"Perfect. So we'll change after dinner and meet him a block before where the letter says. That isn't too early, is it?"

"Oh, goodness, I didn't even think about that. My father would never let us go. These parties aren't exactly known for being tame. And there is practically no sneaking past him, especially not in balls gowns and masks!" She paused, before calling towards the door. "Esther?"

Her lady's maid was quick to return. "Yes, m'lady?"

"We need your help."


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, watch it! You almost pushed me down the stairs." Ophelia gripped the railing, glaring back at Addie.

"Sorry, I slipped on my hem!"

She rolled her eyes and made her way down the rest of the servant stairs. Esther led the way, making their grand escape as easy as pie, and Eva trailed behind them. Downstairs was almost entirely empty, quiet chatter came from the servants' hall, but most were out for the evening.

"Thank you both _so_ much for helping us sneak away!" She laughed. "Don't bother waiting up for us, I don't know how late we'll be home."

"And if we don't make it home by morning," Addie added with a laugh, "just tell father we went out for an early ride."

Esther led them to the door and held it open. "Have a lovely time, m'lady."

They both thanked them once again before making their way up to the street.

"Okay. Belgrave Square is only a few blocks from here. You don't think we'll need a ride, do you?"

"No, of course not. Do you know where Arthur is meeting us?"

"He'll meet us at the corner, just up the street, and Martha will meet us inside. Do you have everything you need?"

"Of course." She pulled on her mask and gave a satisfied smirk.

The walk truly wasn't long at all, and was made to seem even less so by discreet sips from Arthur's hip flask that was passed along the trio as they made their way towards Belgravia. The alcohol was harsh against her throat, but she hardly noticed between their laughs.

It was definitely obvious which of the houses was hosting the party, once they rounded their way into the square. It seemed each room was lit up brightly, and the sound of music and voices spilled into the streets. Her face immediately lit up at the sight.

They made their way up to the front door, waiting behind another group of partygoers. Laughter poured out the door as a couple made their way past them, seemingly already drunk.

"How are they leaving so soon? This is the party of the year!"

"Maybe they have better things to do." Arthur snickered.

"What do you… _ohh."_

A laugh burst from her lips as Addie's face only grew redder.

"Password?" A man stood in front of the door, waiting for them to come forward, looking rather impatient. She hadn't even noticed the other group enter.

"There's a password?"

"Of course." The man looked rather disgruntled. "Next, please."

"Wait, wait! But I was invited!" Her heart felt like it was plummeting to the ground.

"Of course you were. Next in line, please."

"Wait, wait, I really was!" She glanced at Addie. "Did you see a password? All he wrote was an address and to wear a mask…"

"I don't remember him mentioning a password, he didn't write much…"

They looked at each other for a long moment, as if the password would somehow appear on each others' faces.

"Really, I must ask that if you do not know the password, you must move along. There's a line."

"Can you please just get William? He knows we're coming…" She was begging at this point, but the man shook his head. She felt like her heart was not only on the ground, but now repeatedly being stomped on. She glanced from Arthur to Addie, her eyebrows furrowed together. "I don't know what to do. He didn't write anything about a password."

Arthur grabbed her elbow, turning to lead them back down the stairs. She stopped suddenly, a lightbulb going off in her head.

"Wait! I know it!" She turned back for the man, halfway down the stairs. "A red herring! That's the password!"

The man squinted at the trio for a moment, before moving aside for them to enter. She could hear some of the others behind her whispering. They were undoubtedly trying to feel their way into the party without an invitation, and she handed them the golden ticket.

"Yes!" Addie pulled Arthur back up the stairs, squeezing past the man.

"Thank you!" She blew the man a dramatic kiss before passing under the threshold.

The music was much louder inside the house, and was definitely not the typical waltzes you'd usually hear at a party. It was loud, expressive, and exciting, and she was surprised to see it all play out in an Englishman's home. She grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby footman and made her way further into the room. There were groups of people chattering, and dancing couples strewn about. While many were younger people, there were a few older people sprinkled among the crowd as well. She passed a large room, where there seemed to be the most dancers, and where the band sat in the corner. She glanced around, Addie and Arthur seemingly already sucked away into the crowd. She stood near the entryway to the room, watching the couples twirling around in a sea of movement. The dances weren't stiff and boring, most couples were even laughing and talking while they danced. They looked like they were genuinely enjoying themselves.

"Do you know how to dance like that?" The voice was practically a purr in her ear. Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn't turn to look at him.

"Do you?" She matched his tone to his, letting a smirk tease on her lips. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. His pale eyes were brightened even further by his well-fitting black mask. She could feel his breath on her bare shoulder.

"I do, indeed." He paused, his voice dropping even lower. "Would you like me to show you?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, taking the empty champagne glass from her hand and leaving it on a table behind him. Without a word, he took her hand and pulled her out to the floor, just as the song began to change. The music was sultry and warm, her lips tilted into a smirk; it was a song she had danced to often in Paris.

"Don't worry," he smirked, his black mask moving with his cheeks. "I'll go slowly."

"Of course." Her voice came out shallow and breathy. She was teasing him. He didn't notice.

He offered out a hand to her, She grabbed it lightly as he guided her other hand down his shoulder, almost behind his arm. He placed his other hand on her upper back, her skin flushing, despite the fabric separating them. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes, feigning innocence just before the music broke and their dance could begin.

She pulled herself tightly towards him, their faces nearly touching. Just a hint of a smirk tugged at her lips. She could see his eyebrows lift slightly beneath his mask, but he refused to betray his emotions. She let him lead, of course, but she made it obvious she wasn't going to be passive.

The dance should have been complex, but the both moved naturally together. Her lips parted slightly as the Spanish music swelled. She dipped her leg between his as the music called for, her body close to his. They pulled away, just for a moment, before the music pulled them closely together again. Their feet moved in quick little movements, bodies close. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes, a demure smile on her lips. Her chest rose heavily as they made their way across the floor.

His hands were firm against her body, yet somehow still soft. The warmth was the only thing she could think of. It was as if his confidence was almost tangible as he held her closer, dropping her into a steep dip and the music reached its peak. He didn't say a word, but his movements were enough. He pulled her even closer on the return, their foreheads touching now. Their moves were completely in sync, she knew each move before he made them. He dipped her one last time as the song came to a close, this time, her body falling into him. His face was mere inches from her own, her eyes centering in on his lips. Her chest rose rapidly, a flush spreading across her collarbones.

He let out a small laugh as the band's tango shifted its way into an upbeat waltz. He raised her from her dipped position, making sure she was steady. "And I thought you couldn't dance."

She didn't say anything, her head spinning dizzily. Her lips parted slightly as a blush pulsed beneath her cheeks. Her hand gripped his forearm, as if she needed steadied. She might have been confident before, but now she was just flustered. The room was growing uncomfortably warm as more people flocked in to dance. "I think I need some fresh air."


	8. Chapter 8

Her skin felt feverish under his hand as he led her towards the stairs. They passed a small crowd gathered around a poker table, puffing on cigars and laughing boisterously. A gaggle of women squeezed by them, loudly gossiping about the latest scandal and clinking their glasses together as if it was some fascinating new trick they had only just discovered. William's hand pushed gently against her spine as he led her up the grand stairway, shoving past tightly entwined couples and a pink-faced woman who almost seemed to slosh her way down the stairwell, gripping tightly to the tinsel-draped railing.

He guided her towards an open balcony at the top of the stairs, a small cluster of party-goers sliding past them, leaving the cool air to return to the party inside. She rested her hands on the cool railing, thankful for the breeze washing over her skin that chased away the flush staining her collarbones. She took in as much air as she could, the summer air clearing her mind.

William had somehow procured a chilled glass of champagne on their way up the staircase. He handed it to her as he joined her against the railing, his fingers brushing against hers. "This was all I could find. I asked one of the footmen for some water but it might be a while before he can go fetch it."

"It's alright." Her voice was soft as she sipped the champagne. The bubbles tickled her lips. "I liked dancing with you, I'm sorry I'm such a spoilsport."

He waved off her apology with a smile.

"I didn't expect you to know how to dance like that." He laughed quietly, the sound hanging in the night air.

"I know quite a few things, monsieur, you'd be surprised." Her eyes followed a car on the street below them, her eyes shifting to him as it turned a corner. "Paris isn't exactly in the Dark Ages."

"Well I didn't expect someone so tightly laced to dance so modernly."

"Tightly laced?" She scoffed before turning up her chin. "Don't you know? I'm quite the bohemian."

"Oh yes, a bohemian that is very protective of her reputation as a lady." He grinned.

"My reputation? I wasn't aware I had a reputation to speak of."

"Well I remember quite well how adamant you were to assure me that you weren't a drunkard."

"Oh!" She huffed. "You know I wasn't drunk when I spilled that drink."

"I know, I know." He chuckled. "But you were _very_ insistent."

"I just wanted to put the truth out there. I'm not some drunk," she narrowed her eyes in playful vindictiveness. "You were just a klutz."

"Of course." He chuckled, the sound of his laughter dissipating softly, as the sound of the party poured from the door. They sat in a comfortable silence, their pinkies nearly touching on the railing which had begun to warm under her hand. She sipped her champagne as he looked across the square, their eyes never meeting. He turned his head towards her, breaking the delicate silence just as it finally had begun to settle. "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded, her fingertips running over the rim of her champagne glass, which she left sitting on the railing. "Much better."

"You still look flushed…" He reached his hand towards her slowly, gauging her reaction before slowly running his thumb over her collarbone.

Her breath was caught in her throat as his thumb traced from her collar bone to her shoulder, his hand trailing down her arm. Her head tilted back slightly, opening to his touch. Little tingles spread across her body as if each centimeter of her skin was electrified. She didn't know how, but suddenly they were very close to each other. Her chest rose quickly as she let in a shallow breath. His face wasn't far from hers, she could smell just the slightest hint of brandy on his lips, heady and sweet.

His hand paused as his eyes scanned her face. "May I?"

She nodded, tilting her head upwards, towards him, as his hand made it's way back along her neck. Her lips parted slightly as his hand caressed the back of her hair, waiting for him to pull her closer. Instead, he pulled the ribbon of her mask, suddenly loose on her face. He removed it slowly, hardly more than a scrap of lace. His eyes scanned her face once more. "Much better."

She wasn't sure if she leaned in or if he had, but in an instant their lips were touching, tingling like the champagne that had been on them only moments before. She could feel little breaths from his nose tickling her cheek. His hand traced it's way back up her arm slowly until it found it's place on her cheek, and her hand finding it's place against the breast of his suit. She could feel his heart beating against her fingertips and wondered if he could feel hers. Her lips parted as the kiss grew deeper, his tongue just barely running across the soft skin of her inner lip.

His had rested in the fall of her back, pulling her body closer to his, and she pressed against him without complaint. She broke this kiss for a moment, gasping for breath, and his lips moved to the corner of her mouth and then to her jaw. Her skin flushed against his mouth and her chest rose against his. Images of his hands against her body flashed in her mind, her head in a rosy haze. His lips moved from her neck back to her mouth and she felt like she was melting. Her skin was hot, tinged a warm ashamed of pink. His nose brushed against her cheek as their mouths moved in unison.

"Ophelia?" She could hear a voice just inside the door, barely louder than the music.

She let out a soft groan, too engrossed in the contours of his mouth to pull away. His thumb circled her cheek and she pressed herself closer to him.

"Ophelia?"

The voice grew louder, finally convincing her enough to pull her face away.

"No." He almost sounded like he was begging. His lips returned to her neck and her body arched towards his instinctively. "Stay."

"Ophelia!"

The voice was closer now, and clearly Adelaide's slurred tone.

"I can't, I can't." She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself more. "She'll find us, I have to go."

She pulled away, but his hands still held her close. His mouth was pink from the kissing and his hair disheveled from her greedy fingertips. "Do you really have to go?"

"I have to." She glanced nervously at the door. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

She turned to leave, but he held her wrist. She turned to look at him and he pulled her in for another quick kiss.

"Tomorrow." He repeated, returning her mask.

"Tomorrow." She grabbed her champagne and ran her finger across her swollen bottom lip, in a weak attempt to somehow conceal what had just happened. She gave a small, awkward wave before passing back into the house, suddenly more shy than she was before. Her cheeks were brighter than they had been before.

"There you are!" She had just finished re-tying her mask when Addie gripped her arm, spilling some of her champagne onto the carpet. "Where have you been?!"

"It was hot, I was getting some fresh air."

Addie craned her neck as she pushed her further away from the balcony door. "Wait a moment, _was that the Duke?"_

"Who? No, of course not. There wasn't anyone out there."

"No, I definitely saw someone." Addie kept her neck craned, but she pushed forth, towards the stairs.

"Don't worry about that now, you've just had a lot to drink. Have you seen Martha, yet?"


	9. Chapter 9

Just as she felt she had finally gotten to sleep, Eva was pulling open the curtains, morning light streaming across the floor.

"Good morning, mademoiselle." She had already moved onto the vanity, organizing everything she would need for the morning. "I've your bath drawn, whenever you're ready."

"Oh," she groaned, burying her face into the pillows. "Yes, of course."

She could already feel herself drifting back to sleep, unable to muster the willpower to stay awake. The weight of her sheets seemed as comfortable as they ever have, and she could feel her mind chasing after some dream that had only just been interrupted.

"Mademoiselle?"

She startled awake again and sighed. "Yes, yes, I'm up."

She sat up in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The morning light was too bright and her head pounded slightly. Eva's hands fumbled slightly, dropping a heavy comb on the vanity. The sound clattered in her ears, and she winced slightly, waving off her maid's ardent apologies. She hadn't had much to drink the night before, but it was enough for her to feel the after-effects. She grumbled as she stood from the bed, stretching her spine, making little pops as her back shifted into place, shaking off the twisted position she slept in for most of the night.

Eva was still readying her toiletries as she shuffled her way into the bathroom. The steam from the hot water greeted her warmly and she slipped out of her nightgown, dropping it in a puddle of chiffon on the floor. She lowered herself into the hot water, letting out a gentle sigh as it washed over the tops of her thighs and up her spine. Despite the summer heat already seeping into the house, the hot bath was welcome. She sank lower into the water, enjoying the hot water, if only for a moment.

"Here you are, mademoiselle." She glanced up as Eva sat a fresh bar of soap onto her tray of toiletries beside the tub, and scooped up the nightgown from the floor. "I'll be just in the other room if you need me."

"Thank you, Eva." She yawned as the girl pulled the door shut behind her.

She laid back in the tub, soaking in silence, and watching the overcast sky through the steamed windows. She appreciated the quiet, she'd need it before heading out for the day. She let her eyes close, just for a moment longer, only to be startled awake as her head rolled to the side. She sighed, grabbing the bar of soap with one hand and rubbing her eyes with the other.

She lathered the soap against her skin, humming slightly, a tune she had heard the night before. Her skin flushed as she remembered the heady moment she had shared on the balcony with William. _The Duke of Highcaster,_ she corrected herself internally, with a bit of a grumble. The entire situation still felt preposterous in her head, but still, it gave her enough butterflies to last the rest of the summer. In some part of herself, she knew it was nothing more than a kiss, and would likely end there. As a duke, he had a duty, and she knew that. He had much better choices than a nameless girl with shoddy English and manners that didn't quite hold up to the British standard. Still, she reminded herself, he did promise her "tomorrow," and if he was willing to give, she was willing to take.

She let out a soft groan as the bar of soap passed a sore patch on her neck. She knew what that would have to mean. She finished her bath of and stood from the tub. After drying herself she wrapped herself in the silk kimono her father had given her on her last birthday. Using her sleeve, she wiped the condensation from the mirror above the sink.

Three little splotches of purple stained her neck, no bigger than a franc each, along her neck and one just barely grazing her collarbone. Her cheeks turned hot as she traced a finger over the tender spot. She hadn't quite realized the level of…enthusiasm he'd had with her the night before. She clearly didn't notice in her haze, quite understandably, she decided. Still, something needed to be done, no matter how pleased she was feeling about these little love bites.

"Eva, could you be a darling and find that white linen dress? The one with the blue sash?" _And the high neck._

It didn't take long to dress, and her grumbling stomach was more than thankful for that fact. Eva managed to keep a straight face as she adjusted the lace collar over her neck, and the bruises, respectively.

"You are much too serious." She couldn't help but giggle as Eva's cheeks reddened.

"I'm not sure what you mean, mademoiselle." Eva had moved on to tying the sash behind her back, refusing to meet her eyes in the mirror.

"Of course you do, don't be silly. It's embarrassing. And funny." She cracked her a large smile and Eva finally smiled back. "He was a _very_ good kisser."

That's when Eva's face finally broke into a smile. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Oh, I hope so." She leaned towards the mirror, tapping a bit more rouge into her cheeks. "He promised to see me today. So we'll have to see."

"Well I wish you the best of luck, mademoiselle."

"Thank you, I need it."

* * *

Popping another raspberry in her mouth, she flipped the page of her magazine. Addie sat across the table, reading a pile of letters and nibbling on a piece of toast. Uncle Henri sat, as per usual, at the head of the table with the newspaper and a strongly brewed cup of tea. The room was quiet, save for a few clank of forks or teacups on saucers. She missed the chattery breakfasts with her father, but the was more than thankful for the peaceful mornings spent in the London house.

"Listen to this." She looked up from the magazine, and a rather interesting article on the upcoming hat trends. Uncle Henri adjusted his paper before continuing, "At last night's annual and very exclusive masked ball, the charming Lord Astor was seen on a secret rendezvous with an unnamed young woman. The Duke was seen slipping away from the party early in the night, with the young woman in tow. The woman's identity, hidden behind a mask black lace, is still unknown, but any information of this mystery woman is appreciated. The young Duke of Highcaster's party, originally made notorious by his father, and a favorite event of the Prince of Wales…"

The rest of what he was saying faded into a blur as she ducked her head into her magazine, hoping to hide her flushing cheeks. She could feel Addie's eyes on her, a mixture of both disbelief and anger.

Uncle Henri sat the paper down on the table, shaking his head. "Can you believe that? The things they publish in this paper, you know, he was just here the other night at your coming out. He's been such trouble since his father passed away last spring. Do you remember that girl, oh what was her name.. Anyway, ruined her season last year. Broke the poor girls heart, and I've heard speculation that the stretch she spent in Belgium last winter had nothing to do with her learning French."

"Oh, how scandalous." Ophelia sipped her tea, ignoring the eyes still burning into her face from across the table. She kept her voice cool, aiming for a collected demeanor. "You can never trust the things they publish in those rags, though."

The rest of the breakfast was spent in silence, her teacup clattering against it's saucer as her hands shook slightly. Her uncle gave her a raised eyebrow but she just smiled. Finally, she folded her magazine. "If you don't mind, Uncle Henri, I think I should make my way out for the day."

She stood from the table and made her way back upstairs to fetch her hat and parasol. She could feel Addie's eyes on her back, but the girl made no move to follow her. She felt her stomach drop slightly more than it already had. She knew there would be plenty hell to pay, she just hoped she could finish her errands for the day first.


	10. Chapter 10

"Do you know if these come in a different color?"

She tugged the short leather glove onto her hand, fastening the button at the wrist. She examined her hand, clenching and then unclenching her fingers to test the fit.

"Well, hello, mystery woman."

She jumped nearly a foot in the air as she spun around. William leaned against the counter, a newspaper tucked under his arm and a devilish smirk on his lips. She didn't understand how he managed to sneak up on her the way he did, but she was too embarrassed to care.

"Mon dieu, you nearly gave me a heart attack! Good gracious!" She cleared her throat, regaining her posture. Tugging the gloves from her hand, she turned to the girl behind the counter, who quickly averted her eyes. "I'll take these, please."

The shopgirl's eyes slid between them one more time before quickly ducking away. She turned her attention back to William, who still leaned against the counter. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow after thanking the shopgirl for the the gloves. "I take it you've seen this morning's paper?"

"The gossip column is very popular." He smirked, following beside her, after she paid for the gloves.

"And once you've outgrown your season, the only thing left interesting are the lives of others, yes?" She rolled her eyes. "Pardon my manners but you British are just so…terne. So…boring."

He scoffed playfully, "You mean to tell me you've never picked up a gossip magazine or listened in on what someone else is saying? A young girl as fashionable as you has never once picked up a copy of La Vie Parisienne or La Mode and even so much as skimmed the gossip section?"

Her cheeks turned red, and she was more than aware that he had noticed. His lips rose into a satisfied smile. He remained quiet until they had made their way back into the sunlight. He came to a stop as they were to part ways. "I don't suppose you would care to join me for tea this afternoon? There's a small place, not terribly far from here that might be suited to your tastes."

"Well you did promise "tomorrow," and now here we are…" She paused for a moment, glancing at her busy path towards Eaton Square. In the distance she noticed a familiar pair of girls quickly waving down her attention. Her pulse suddenly shot to her ears, dreading the conversation. Quickly, she looked back at William, who stood holding his hat in his hands, awaiting an answer. She let out an exhilarated breath. "I don't see why not."

"Well by all means, shall we make our way?"

"Yes, I…," she glanced back one more time, Martha and Addie gaining quickly on them. William's gaze followed hers, quickly returning to meet her eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her and she knew immediately what he meant. Grabbing his hand, with a quick nod, they both broke into a run, swiveling through the confused pedestrians and passing the quiet tutting that trailed behind them.

"I have no idea where we're-" Her laughter was suddenly cut off as her ankle gave out, her heel caught in a crack in the curb. William skidded to a stop, quickly pulling her back from the oncoming traffic that just barely missed her.

"Ups-a-daisy." He steadied her back onto the sidewalk, his arm lingered around her waist from where he had lifted her. "We don't need you to become roadkill."

She gave him a sly look before wiggling out of his grip. An older woman with an impossibly high collar tutted behind them. Her cheeks reddened, but she turned her head to look directly at the woman, raising a defiant eyebrow. She opened her mouth to say something, but William had already begun pushing her ahead.

"Thank you for catching me back there. Very much."

"You're very welcome." He paused as if he was going to add something, but his face simply returned to his regular slick smile.

"So, you never told me where we were going."

"You'll see, we aren't terribly far." He led her along a side street before they were dumped back into a bustling street, although it was quite different than the previous one. On the corner was a man smoking a cigar, finely dressed in a suit, paired with an expensive looking turban on his head. The street here was full of small stalls, one in particular being run by a old woman, whose stand was filled to the brim with tasseled shawls and a line of books all bearing the same yellow paper covers. The smells of spices, liquor, and tobacco surrounded them like a cloud as the made their way through the street, passing the like of both well dressed men and scrappy pageboys. She paused by an artist's stall, scoping an impressive stack of nude portraits.

"I had no idea London could be so bohemian."

"Do you like it?" He shifted, leaning towards a painting that had caught his attention of a woman entangled in red sheets.

"It feels much more like home." She smiled, brushing her hand along a canvas. "I'm much more used to artists, not so much the aristocracy. I've spent most of my life in Montmartre, my mother is buried there."

"Montmartre?" Her attention shifted from the art to the artist, who was leaning on a stool at the end of the stall. "Êtes-vous parisienne?"

"Bien sur!" She laughed, giving a simple wave at herself. "D'où viens-tu?"

"Pigalle, mais je suis parti après la Crue de la Seine, et toi?"

"J'habite à côté du Palais Garnier, mon père est un compositeur." She smiled, blushing slightly. "Et je chante, un peu."

"Et Londres? Pourquoi?"

"C'est juste pour la Saison." She glanced at William who had stepped aside to look at the art, but who still listened curiously. "C'est pas Paris."

"C'est vrai," The man put out his cigarette on the cobblestones before standing. Grabbing the portrait she had been admiring, he wrapped it quickly in parcel paper and held it out to her. "Pour un Parisien, d'un autre."

She backed up slightly, a bright blush flooding her cheeks. She glanced at William again who watched the interaction quietly. "Je ne…"

"C'est pour toi." He laughed, finally handing her the portrait. "Pour Paris, ouais?"

She bit her lip, holding the portrait to her chest. Finally with a nod she grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. "Merci, monsieur. Merci beaucoup."

"De rien." He smiled, pulling another cigarette from his pocket, and waving away her thanks. With a chuckle he tilted his head towards William. "Et si tu vest un portrait…"

She laughed, nodding, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. "Bien sur! Merci, monsieur."

She waved the man goodbye, before returning to William's side. "I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean to exclude you."

He dismissed her apology before taking the portrait and tucking it under his arm. "Do you miss Paris?"

"I miss it very much. London is lovely. But…" She paused, folding her hands in front of her. "There is nothing quite like _la vie Parisienne."_

She shrugged softly, and he offered his hand to her. "Perhaps lunch might make you feel more at home?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Could I bother you for one of those?"

William's eyebrows shot up quickly, crinkling his brow. Pausing, his cigarette case nearly in his breast pocket, he pulled it out again. With a small shrug he opened it once more, watching as she pulled a cigarette from the case. "I didn't realize you smoked."

"I…don't, per se." She paused, looking up to ask, just as he held out an already lit match. She leaned in, inhaling deeply, the taste of tobacco running across her tongue followed by a short wave of diziness. It felt comfortable. Her throat complained slightly, but the sensation suddenly brought her back to the small bohemian cafes she'd spend the weeknights holed up in. "Thank you, darling. But, my uncle finds it much too unladylike, I would never get away with it in his house. And my father, well, he's a musician you know. And even as a child he was adamant I never smoke, as to not ruin my voice. I could never possibly get away with it around him. But, that doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself sometimes."

"I heard you mention your father earlier, if I'm not mistaken. What's he like? Why didn't he come to London with you?"

"My father is…a bit different. He doesn't see the world quite like you would. I suppose the world doesn't see him that way either." She paused, unsure how to continue. "He's just very different. He's somewhat of a recluse, I suppose. It broke my heart to leave him alone in Paris. It's really only us. My mother's family doesn't like him much, I'm fine, but they just see him differently that my mother did. Differently than I do."

He studied her face, sipping the coffee that sat in front of him. "Will he join us at all this Season? I'd very much like to meet him."

"Oh no," she shook her head quickly, tapping the ashes from the end of her cigarette, "I don't think…He's not exactly…He's the kind of person one would need to get accustomed to, so to speak."

"You'll find I'm a very easy person to get to know," he smirked.

"Yes, I know, but…" She fell silent, taking a long drag from her cigarette, unsure how to continue. After a long silence, he spoke up.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry." Before she could apologize, herself, he continued. "I just find myself positively fascinated with you."

She didn't respond, examining the dwindling cigarette between her fingers. Finally, she stubbed it out, reaching instead for her coffee. At the last moment, her eyes finally glanced up to his, the one sound being the lapping of the cream she poured into her coffee. "I didn't come to London to fall in love, William."

"I never said you did," he said simply, leaning back in his seat. He took a long draw from his cigarette, before that awful, sinful grin returned again to his face. "But you did kiss me last night. For quite some time, might I add."

"It was merely a kiss, I'm sorry if I misled you." she shook her head, setting down her coffee cup, "In Paris, kisses are like fleas: even the cleanest looking mutts can get them. It didn't need to mean anything. I didn't mean for it to mean anything."

"Hey, now," his eyebrow shot up playfully as he put out his own cigarette, "I didn't invite you here to be insulted."

"I'm sorry I've been so complicated," She stood from the table, reaching for the parcel and her gloves, "I'm sorry this isn't what you were expecting."

"Whoah, hey, calm down." He stood from the table and touched her arm gently. "I wasn't expecting anything. You don't need to leave. I'm not asking you do do anything you wouldn't want. I enjoy your company, it doesn't have to be more than that."

She stood for a for a moment longer, before returning to her seat. A flurry of half-processed thoughts muddled her mind. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so conflicting. I just…London wasn't quite my idea. My father wanted me to come, he felt I needed to get out, get married, achieve life he felt he couldn't give me, what have you. The life of aristocracy wasn't built for him, but he was convinced it was for me. But I'm not sure that's what I want for myself. I like caring for my father. I like dancing with attractive men and reading rebellious literature and drinking too much champagne and pushing limits. Please don't get me wrong, I love London, I love the parties and the shopping and even sometimes the structure of it all. But there's so little passion. People are like shells, planning another dinner, visiting another friend, cutting another ribbon to some nameless place. It's not how I want to live forever."

They both sat in silence for a long time, the coffee growing cold in front of them both, a not-quite-out cigarette still leaving a wisp of smoke trailing in the air. Neither of them made eye contact, yet she could feel him watching her. Her eyes stayed intent on the way his fingers stayed perfectly still on the napkin they rested on. Carefully she set down the napkin she had been fidgeting with in her own hands, smoothing the wrinkles against the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so unnecessarily upset."

"Don't apologize." His eyes were on her face now, but it took the return of silence for her to finally meet his eyes. "I know what it means to be stifled. Too well. But I don't expect anything of you. Being British is not an easy task. Especially when you aren't British. I don't want you to feel obligated to act that way. Especially around me."

"That's very kind. But you hardly know me. And I can't possibly expect you to dedicate so much to me."

"I don't mind. As I said before, I enjoy merely being in your company. You talk differently, you aren't simply a fortune chaser. That's hard to come by around here. True friends can be hard to find."


	12. Chapter 12

"Connecting…"

Ophelia shifted slightly in her seat, tapping her bottom lip with a pencil, the cool metal leaving a tingling chill on her lips. Her thoughts drifted to the delicate kiss William had left her with as he returned her to the London house. His lips were soft against hers, no more than a soft peck, and no more than a goodbye kiss. Despite all that she had said to him in the cafe, and despite her own internal protesting, the kiss still left little flutters in her stomach. She returned the pencil to it's pad of paper and rested her forehead on her hand, her elbow propped onto the edge of the table.

"Hello?"

"Papa." She smiled softly, the sound of his voice making her chest swell.

"Oh! Hello, darling. I didn't realize you'd be calling. How is London treating you?"

"It's been fine, papa. I've just been missing home. How are you?" She looked up from the phone to see Addie making her way into the room, with a mountain of questions behind her eyes. A wave of anxiety ran over her, her hands becoming clammy. She tightened her grip on the phone receiver slightly, watching as Addie plopped herself down in front of her.

"When were you going to tell me about this?!" She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

"I…" Her father was busy describing the opera's latest debacle, a dancer who had fallen mid-performance, breaking her leg. She struggled to listen, though, instead placing her hand over the mouthpiece. "Can't I tell you later?"

"No! How long did you plan on leaving me in the dark?!"

"I didn't try to…just a moment, papa." She covered the receiver again, her ears turning pink with anger. "I was going to tell you this morning. I didn't expect to be in the papers, for Christ's sake! Please, just let me finish this first, then I'll tell you everything, will that make you happy?"

"Promise?" Addie stood, hands on her hips.

"Yes, now please…just give me a moment." She waited for Addie to leave before releasing a string of obscenities under her breath. With a deep breath, she removed her hand from the reciever, dropping her forehead back into her hand. "I'm sorry, papa, Addie just needed to ask me something. You were saying about the dancer…?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, not even the sound of breathing coming through the other end. Just as she opened her mouth, her father spoke. "Is everything alright, Ophelia?"

"I…" She fought to find an answer, desperately searching the mess of thoughts clouding her mind. Finally, the frustration besting her, she let out a shaky sigh. "No. No, I don't think so, papa."

"Has someone hurt you, my darling?" His voice became grave, dropping into the territory that often brought chills to her spine. His voice, even though a strange mixture of threatening and worried, comforted her nevertheless. "It wasn't that duke you told me of, was it?"

"I wouldn't say that," she laughed half-heatedly, "if anything, I've done it to myself."

"What do you mean?" She could hear the quiet relief in his voice, but she felt none of it.

"I've just been terribly conflicted," she bit her lip, feeling her chest tighten slightly. "I don't even know what it means. I don't even know why I'm so upset. I don't even know what I'm confused about. I just feel terribly lost."

"What could have brought this on, darling? Surely something must have happened to make you this upset?"

"I've just had a difficult time getting on, more than I expected. I miss Paris. I miss the opera. I miss you." She could feel hot tears welling up in her eyes. "I've been away so many times, I don't know what's so different about this time. I just don't know if I'm quite as made out for polite society as we though. I don't know why I'm so upset. What…What is it like t-… No, never mind…"

"Are you wanting to come home?"

She wiped the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. The prospect of being back in Paris was a relief, but it was not the answer she wanted. "Of course not, I couldn't possibly. Perhaps I'm just taking this trip too seriously…"

"I'm sorry if I made you feel obligated to anything, darling. All I want for you is what you want for yourself. Nothing more."

She sighed, his voice soft on the other end of the line. She knew what he meant all along, but hearing it was nevertheless a comfort. "I suppose it was all my own doing, papa, not yours. I've just been overthinking it all."

"Don't feel obligated to blame yourself for your emotions, Ophelia."

"I won't, papa." She sat quietly for a moment, listening to the silence between them both. "Papa…?

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me about her? Please?" She paused, hoping he would speak, but when there was nothing, she continued. "What was it like when you first met?"

There was a radio silence at the other end of the line, and for a moment, she was unsure if he had hung up or not. But knowing her father, she knew he was still there. She also knew that what she had asked of him was not an easy task for him. The silence hung heavily, her anticipation palpable. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, she heard her father take a deep breath, before beginning to speak.

"I'm afraid our meeting wasn't particularly romantic. Quite the opposite, really. I lived beneath the opera then, although you knew that. Our home now wasn't built until we were married. But she had found me as I was playing, I was much different then. Much less…kind. She had fallen into the lake, taking a candelabra with her." He laughed quietly, his voice slowly morphing from a solemn tone to a distant fondness. "I couldn't leave her to drown, although I will admit that it wouldn't have been far from my character…There was something just so peculiar about this young girl who managed to make her way to me. I was furious, but there was something that made me save her… Of course, following this, I wasn't nearly as kind. I made her leave. I was furious, a pitiful creature."

"When did you know you loved her?"

"It took much longer than it should have, I admit. It was only when your uncle, Nadir, mentioned something that it truly hit me. It was as if everything had fallen into place at once. I was confused, angry even. I made myself sick over it, really. I was terribly embarrassed, up until that point I had never experienced anything like it. I refused to believe someone like her could ever love someone like me. I still find myself wondering that very thing." There was a pause as he collected his thoughts. "It was hard admitting I loved her, but once I gave myself the chance to realize, it was the best gift anyone has given me in this life. You're the one thing she gave me, a real representation of _us._ Without you, I don't think I could trust myself in believing it was real."

They both sat in silence once again, a comfortable place for them both. Yet, the space in both of their silences were filled with vastly different things. Her father was, undoubtedly, reflecting, his mind 19 years in the past. Ophelia, on the other hand, was directed towards the future, uncertainty and unease gripping her mind. Despite all of her day's anxieties, she knew she didn't love William by any means. She barely knew him. She wouldn't fall in love with the very first man to show her attention, the world did not work like that. In some sense, she knew she was terrified of what would come after love, or rather, once the love was gone. But in the back of her mind, the smallest piece of her quivered at the idea of love, the most powerful emotion, and weapon, of all.

She was the first to speak again, distracting herself from her own thoughts. "Thank you, papa. For telling me. I know it isn't easy…"

"Don't apologize." His emotion was difficult to discern. "I haven't allowed myself to remember these things for some time now. It was a welcome change, it's become too long now."

"I wish I had been able to know her…"

"I very much wish the same thing, every day of my life I wish she was still here with us. But you become more and more like her every day. She was so full of spirit, of love. I'm thankful you never inherited my callousness." He laughed, "She would have never been able to forgive me for that."

"Well, don't be so certain." She glanced at the grandfather clock across the room, squinting slightly at the blurred hands. It was nearly dinner, now. "Anyway, I should probably go, I should be changing for dinner by now. Thank you for listening, papa."

"Of course, what else would I be good for?" He laughed, continuing, "Go get ready for dinner. I'll talk to you soon. Just remember that your happiness is your first priority. I don't want you to all me in tears again, unless they're tears of happiness. Alright?"

"Of course, papa," she laughed, wiping the tears that were welling in her eyes once more. "I love you, papa. I'll talk to you soon."

"Of course. I love you too, darling. Now, go get changed for dinner, I don't want to be the reason your Henri is kept waiting."

Finally, she hung up the phone, smoothing her hands over her skirt and wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks. She stood, grabbing her things from the floor where she had left them. Behind her, someone cleared their throat, and she turned her head in surprise.

"Is everything alright, Miss Ophelia?" Parker stood behind her, having come through the servant's door in the opposite end of the parlor. His posture was as straight as a line, as always, but his eyes were compassionate. She could see his shoulders drop slightly as he saw her tearstained face.

"I'm quite alright, really. It's just been a terribly long day." She gave him a soft smile, holding her things to her chest.

"Can I get you anything, at the very least? Tea, perhaps?"

"I'm alright, but thank you, Parker, for asking." She turned to leave, but stopped. "Could you tell Eva I'm ready to change for supper whenever she has that chance? I'm in no real hurry, though."

"Yes, of course, Miss Ophelia."

"Thank you, Parker." She paused, half-turned to say something, but instead, she turned and made her way up the stairs.


	13. Chapter 13

Quietly, she stepped through the hall, passing Addie's room and quietly stepped into her own. Thankfully, the room was empty. With a sigh, she dropped her parcels on the bed before plopping down beside them. She grabbed the portrait, tearing off the brown paper that kept it covered. Tossing the paper aside, she let her fingers drift over the canvas, feeling the texture of the brush strokes beneath her fingertips. The woman was beautiful, there was no contest to that. She scanned the woman's face, flushed with a pink glow, one hand holding her hair off of her neck, the other delicately against her chest.

Her fingers traced the brushstrokes of her curves, in a strange mixture of curiosity and envy. She quite liked her own body, she had not reason not to. Her small stature and more "womanly" assets seemed to match her mother's quite accurately, but she retained much of her father's lithe, delicate posture, with a thin neck and dainty hands. She trailed her hands across the portrait, searching the woman's eye's. While she had no reason to be jealous of her body, she felt very much so jealous of this. The woman's eyes were half-lidded, her lashes hanging like heavy curtains, almost as if they were there to hold back the lust that swam in her eyes. an effortless pout hung on her lips, beckoning. Her cheeks almost flushed as she stared into the painted woman's face. The pure emotion that came from a simple look, a sentence without words, made her incredibly envious. She wished she could convey even a fraction of what this women did with a single glance.

A knock at the door made her jump suddenly, her fingers recoiling from the portrait as is they had been burnt. A red flush spread to her ears, unsure whether or not she should cover the painting again. The door creaked open, and she sat up quickly, flipping the portrait over.

"Mademoiselle?"

A wave of relief washed over her as Eva peeked her head around the door. She stood from the bed, "Come in, Eva. I was just unwrapping some shopping."

"I've laid out the red dress for tonight, will that be alright, mademoiselle?" Eva made her way to the armoire, waiting for an affirmation.

"Yes, of course." Eva moved the dress to the bed before meeting Ophelia in the center of the room to help her undress.

"I'm sorry I've been so distant lately, Eva. You must feel terribly alone in this new house." She paused, turning to glance at Eva. "Have you been getting on well downstairs?"

"Quite well, mademoiselle, thank you."

"Are you doing well with all of the English food? It's a bit..different, isn't it?" With a giggle, she stepped out of the dress, taking off her earrings and laying them on the vanity.

"It's been a new experience…" She kept her voice cool, but she was able to discern her distaste for it. "I'm glad to try it."

"Perhaps I can find something worthwhile for us both while I'm out tomorrow," she couldn't help but laugh, "It's definitely something you'll learn to…appreciate. Perhaps I'll be able to convince Uncle Henri to push for a change of menu, comme les Française."

"That would be lovely mademoiselle, thank you." Eva's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. She helped her slip into the red dress, fastening the buttons down the length of her spine. She adjusted the bust, turning slightly in front of the mirror. She moved to the vanity as Eva put away the jewelry from the day.

"So." She looked at Eva through the mirror's reflection, a playful smirk on her lips. "Have any dashing footmen caught your eye? Or perhaps the chauffeur? He _is_ a handsome fellow."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," her cheeks turned pink.

"Oh, please, don't be shy. It's not as if we haven't shared our own secrets before." She glanced at Eva and she reshaped her hair, pinning in a delicate brooch. "But don't let me force you either."

"It's quite alright, mademoiselle." Eva turned away, her cheeks still red, grabbing the jewelry for the evening. "The chauffeur, Greene's his name, is very handsome. I don't know if he thinks much of me though."

"Why wouldn't he? You're a handsome young woman, I don't know why he wouldn't be interested." She smirked, putting in the earrings Eva laid before her. "Perhaps I have to pit you together before the summer ends."

"Oh, you don't have to do that at all, mademoiselle, it-"

There was a knock at the door, interrupting them both. Before either could answer, Addie pushed her way in, shutting the door behind her. She was already dressed for dinner, her arms folded across the delicate beading of her dress. She glanced between them both, pausing to look at Eva before sending a glare Ophelia's way.

"I think I should be able to fend for myself now, Eva. You're fine to go, now." She stood from the vanity, giving Eva a half-hearted smile. Eva nodded silently, grabbing her discarded clothing and leaving the room in a hurry. Once she pulled the door shut behind her, she turned to Addie with a sigh. "I take it you're here to scold me?"

"What happened last night?

"Nothing happened," She sighed, turning towards the mirror, adjusting her hair. "not really."

"But _something_ did happen, correct?"

"We danced. And we kissed. But nothing more that that."

"Do you love him?" She voice dropped slightly, a mixture of disappointment and curiosity.

"Love him? Of course not, I hardly know him. I'm in London to enjoy myself, nothing more than that. He's just a handsome man who I enjoy being around."

"You haven't…done anything, right?"

"Are you really pulling the moral high card here?" She rolled her eyes. "Even if I had, I wouldn't expect you to be the one to scold me, Addie. I'm not trying to do anything stupid, I'm just trying to have fun."

"I just want you to be safe. He's nothing more than a flirt. I don't want him to upset you or lead you down the wrong path…" She let out a frustrated sigh, "It's one thing in my case, Arthur and I will be getting married. But William…he could ruin everything you have. He's not the marriage type, I don't want you to make any mistakes…"

"And what, get pregnant? I'm not an idiot, Addie." She sighed, "What if I'm not the marrying type? I don't want to live my life like a nun by any means."

"Ophelia." She gave her a look not unlike a bitter governess, before giving in with a sigh. "Just don't make stupid mistakes, please."

"I didn't plan on it, Addie. I know what I'm doing. I'm a big girl. Besides, I don't have much of a reputation to ruin." She sighed. "We should go down, Henri will be waiting on us."

"Wait, wait. I'm not done with you, yet!"

"I think I've been lectured enough for one day, Addie." She stood, only to be pushed back down by Addie.

"Wait!" She huffed dramatically. "You didn't tell me everything. Was he at least a good kisser?"

Ophelia's complexion immediately became that of a tomato. She bit her lip, a smirk creeping onto her face unable to be suppressed by her teeth. "Oh yes. A _very_ good kisser."

Addie giggled, "Well I can't say I'm too surprised. He is very well known for his skills. But what was it like? When he kissed you?"

"It was…" She paused, her cheeks flushing as she remembered their little rooftop rendezvous. "Overwhelming. He was so slow, so delicate with me. His lips tasted like brandy and his hands were so gentle and he held me so close… I felt like I would melt into a puddle in his arms. And his lips were all over me, my neck, my shoulders, and then….you showed up. And I left him there."

"You just _left him there?_ " Addie's jaw visibly dropped. "Are you insane or just a masochist?!"

"Shh! Yes, I left him. I had to get back to you. You wanted to leave, and Martha was sick." Her cheeks turned red, realizing that if she hadn't left, she was unsure how the situation might have escalated to more from just that kiss. She shook off the heart-racing thoughts that muddled her mind. "I couldn't have just abandoned you."

"Uh, yes you could have!" Addie let out a lovesick sigh. "That's enough romance for a lifetime."

"Hasn't Arthur made you feel that way?"

"Well of course, but we're not talking about Arthur, we're talking about the most eligible bachelor in London. And _god,_ just talk about eligible."

"Weren't you just advising me against him?"

Addie rolled her eyes. "Well, of course. Just because he's a paragon of dreaminess doesn't mean you should do anything stupid. I'm just saying that sounded ridiculously romantic. He's attractive, I can't argue with that."

"Romantic or not, I think we should probably make our way downstairs before your father has a conniption fit." Ophelia rolled her eyes, standing. Addie shrugged and made her way towards the door, only stopping right before she reached for the doorknob.

So…" Addie raised an eyebrow, nodding her head towards the dress box in the corner of the room. "What do you plan to do about Lord Tarrin now?"

Ophelia stopped, suddenly realizing not only had she been keeping the man in the dark, but she had kept his dress and, inevitably, his hopes up while she had been running around London with another man. She didn't show any interest in him, she even told him so, but she was met with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. "I'll have to send it back tomorrow…there's no way I can keep this now."


	14. Chapter 14

Ophelia leaned on the arm of the sofa, sipping a now-warm glass of wine and watching her aunt gossip with a handful of ladies she had yet to learn the names of. Her uncle had joined the husbands in the other room for cigars and a round of billiards, and thank goodness for that. She had felt the tension in the room, the strain practically palpable between her aunt and uncle. She had hardly even seen her aunt since she had arrived in London, and her uncle never mentioned her in conversation. Alongside this, Addie had remained radio silent about the situation, but she had pieced together what she could from the bits in passing and whispers from the maids. She gathered her uncle has had some sort of affair with a younger maid, that managed to explode in the newspapers a year or so prior. Ever since, her aunt stayed in opposite ends of the house, or even staying in the country house as her uncle was staying in the London house. The way they treated each other made her cringe.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"Hm?" Ophelia turned just as Addie joined her on the sofa. "About what?"

"Lord Tarrin." Addie frowned, sipping her wine. "You can't just run around London with another man while you have someone else wrapped around your finger."

"I didn't plan on it." She sighed, shifting in her seat. "I didn't want him to send me the dress. I don't know why he thinks I'm so interested. I just danced with him that one night."

"At least he's the marriageable type."

She let out a sigh. "Addie. Really"

"I'm just saying. He has good prospects." Addie rolled her eyes.

"Again with the prospects. I don't care about that. I could live in a dirty hovel for the rest of my life and be perfectly content."

"Not with your taste in fashion." Addie scoffed, before nudging Ophelia's arm. "Besides, I've heard he has a thing for french girls."

"Gross. I'm not interested in being an object of his fetishes."

"I'm just saying. he's handsome, he has money, and he's interested in you. What more could a girl need?"

"He's not interested in me, He's interested in my accent." She laughed.

"Whatever." Addie stood from the sofa with an eye roll. "Be bitter forever, Ophelia, I'm not going to stop you."

She rolled her eyes with a laugh. Dramatic. As always. But drama was interesting. She couldn't argue with that, it was one of the few things that would keep her sane. She swallowed the rest of her wine and left the glass on the side table, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. She knew there was truth behind Addie's words, of course there was. William was a notorious heartbreaker, with little interest in real relationships. And love didn't seem so bad… Sure, a handsome duke was nice. He flirted with her. But what more to it was there? Robert was kind to her. He showed at least some shared interests with her, and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Her cheeks reddened slightly as she remembered the night of the gala. He was handsome, even though she tried to convince herself otherwise. William was gorgeous, a god amongst men, but Robert was realistic. Safe. He was lanky, but she didn't know many men her age who weren't. She wasn't even sure she could call him a man yet, with his boyish features. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered the crooked smile he would flash her, remembering their discussion on his uncle's work as a dentist. She remembered how small her hand felt in his, his long finger firm yet gentle as they danced. Even missing a step here and there, she genuinely enjoyed dancing with him, and enjoyed talking to him even more. He was sweet to the core, she knew that. But even so, dark thoughts swirled in the back of her mind. He was sweet. So sweet. And that made her uncomfortable.

She remembered the way she danced around any discussion of her father, despite Robert's keen interest on her life in Paris, and the opera especially. She knew that most people were uncomfortable around her father. They were a strange bunch. As much as she would have liked to have been like her mother, or at least how her mother was always described, she knew all too well that she took after her father. She was short tempered, and too often liked being away from others. As misunderstood as her father was, she was protective of that image. His actions were often toxic or self-depricating, and she couldn't help but indulge in the same kinds of behavior when she didn't keep herself in check. She saw a future in herself, the same way her father taught her to be. But she held on desperately to isolation. It was comfortable.

"Ophelia, darling, would you sing us something? I was just telling Eleanore how well trained you were."

She blinked at her aunt, as her eyes became focused on the present moment. Her thoughts had gotten much deeper than she had anticipated, leaving her completely unaware of her surroundings. Her eyes shifted quickly to the multiple pairs watching her. She immediately felt the need to escape, as if all of her thoughts had been vocalized.

"I'm terribly sorry, I was only about to excuse myself. I think I'm coming down with something. I'd be glad to sing something another time. I'd had to dampen the mood."

"Oh, of course." Her aunt was quick to send off Parker, who had been standing quietly in the end of the room. "I'll have Parker send up your maid as soon as possible. Do feel better."

"Thank you, I'm terribly sorry I couldn't perform. Some other time…Goodnight." She was quick to make her way out of the room. Letting out a deep sigh as she shut the parlor door behind her. She hurried her way up the stairs to her room, desperate to make her way back into solitude.

Kicking off her shoes, after closing the door behind her, her eyes turned to the dress box, propped in the corner of the room. She paused for a moment, before making her way to the box. Kneeling on the floor, she pulled off the lid. The dress was folded away neatly, looking just as lovely as the day she received it. She paused to run her fingers over the lace before picking up the card that was tucked away in the paper. She scanned over the child-like french, written in determined hand. She felt torn in all directions. In many ways, Robert was quite possibly the perfect gentleman. He was remarkably sweet, at least somewhat intelligent, and interested in everything about her. On the other hand, there was William. Perfect and conniving, with an attitude to boot. Even if he was emotionally bankrupt, he was the adventure she'd been craving.

The hardest option was neither, of course. The option to not choose at all stuck out like a sore thumb. While a summer romance sounded like the perfect adventure, she knew that it was just as awful as a choice as choosing no one. To choose between a terribly boring summer and a new adventure, despite a few heartbreaks along the way, seemed like the impossible question. She suddenly felt selfish, a pit sinking in her stomach. Addie had warned her what a heartbreaker William was. But she never expected that she'd be the true harbinger of heartbreak this summer. She wanted a fling. Something to toy with, just to try out. She had no intentions of being tied down. And if the only way out of that was risking her own heartbreak, she'd take it.

Without a further thought, she closed the lid on the dress and stood. Tucking the note from Robert under the mattress, she proceeded to slip out of her dinner clothes as best she could. She didn't have much time, but if she hurried, she could make her way out unnoticed. She scribbled a note to Eva on a folded piece of stationery and made her way to the armoire. She knew precisely what she wanted to wear. She flipped through the clothes quickly before pulling it out. A slinky, blood-red dress, made of wispy chiffon. It was easy enough to slip into by herself, she was thankful for that. She paused to look in the mirror, smoothing down any fly-away hairs. The dress wasn't terribly scandalous, though it might have earned a scoff or two from her aunt's group of friends. Still, the transparent fabric clung to her skin, making her breasts' rise and fall even more noticeable. Far from demure, to say the least. After slipping on a pair of shoes, she gave herself a final once-over.

Perfect.


	15. Chapter 15

The moment Belgrave square came into view, she regretted her decision. Part of her wanted to hide out in the gardens, diving into the bushes, but another part of her begged to go on. Still, she persisted, making her way closer and closer to Highcaster House, each step adding a rock to her stomach, weighing her down as she drew closer. She knew adventure never comes easy, and dammit, she would do what she could to pursue it. Embarrassment made her stomach turn nevertheless. She looked like a harlot in the middle of Belgravia in the middle of the night, chasing a boy who she meant nothing to. Stupid. She didn't know what she was going to say, she didn't know why she was even here in the first place.

She rounded the corner, Highcaster house as brightly lit as the night before, but no music poured out tonight. She stood on the opposite side of the road, wishing desperately to sink into the bushes and never be seen again. Her mind drew a blank. She didn't know why she even bothered coming. Her fingers tugged uncomfortably at the chiffon of her dress, hanging limply from her body. She didn't feel fashionable. She didn't feel exciting. She felt like an idiot for dressing up, and she felt like she was an even bigger idiot for coming. She felt like a peeping tom, snooping around like this. This was magnified as the front door of the house swung open, pouring light across the cobblestones.

She scurried out of the light, desperate to not be seen. This was too much for her. And it was stupid all along. What did she plan to accomplish? She watched as the figures of a young man and young woman made their way out the door, stopping her in her tracks. She watched as the man leaned down to kiss the young woman on the lips, a moment too long to be just friendly. Her stomach instantly dropped to the floor, and every last bit of hope flew out the window. Addie had told her he was a heartbreaker, she knew this all along. She never expected any sort of loyalty, they hardly knew each other after all. But she expected him to be at least a little more courteous to the girls he flirted with. If she didn't feel stupid before, this was the nail in the coffin. Chasing a man with commitment issues was one thing, but actually getting her hopes up about him was another.

Without another look, she turned for home, tail between her legs. Unfortunately her movement was stopped a moment too soon by a dinner jacket, knocking her onto the pavement. Before she even had time to lament the new tear in her dress, strong hands were there, in an attempt to help her up. Out of embarrassment and just a tinge of rage, she shrugged off the help, dropping a string of unintelligible profanities, thankful for the language barrier. She attempted to stand on her own, despite her tangled skirt, just as the hands returned under her elbow, aiding her the rest of the way up.

"Watch where you're going, _connard._ " She shrugged off the hands once again, adjusting her ruined dress in a huff.

" _I'm_ the one who should watch where I'm going?"

Her head snapped up in shock, immediately forgetting about the tear in her dress and the fall altogether. Instead of a stiff old man like she expected, she was met with a familiar tousle of dark hair and a devilish smirk. Her stomach, which had been doing somersaults all night gave a final flip in surprise.

"You're here?" She glanced back at Highcaster House, whose doors were now shut, leaving the street once again in the dark. The woman on the stairs was now walking the other direction.

"Well, I do live here. I think it would be more appropriate if I asked why _you're_ here." He plucked the cigarette from between his lips, putting it out on the sidewalk with a swivel of his foot. "And without a chaperone, I see? Or are you running from Lady Adelaide once more?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just terribly confused…" She glanced back at the shut doors once more, Williams eyes followed hers, first to the door, then to the woman as she disappeared around the corner.

"Ah." His face paced through a range of emotions before settling back into it's cool smirk. He surveyed her face before continuing. "My kid brother. I might be considered a scoundrel, but I wouldn't go behind the back of such a lovely woman."

"Your brother." She glanced at the house, still not processing the entire situation. "That wasn't you?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't be caught dead with Margot Tucker. A lovely girl, really, but a bit of a stick in the mud." He lowered his voice. "You are _much_ more exciting."

Her breath caught in her throat. Even with his explanation, her head reeled in confusion over what had transpired in the last ten minutes. Before she could say anything, William's arm was wrapped around her waist, leading her towards his home. "Wait, what are we doing?"

"I ruined your dress, the least I could do is invite you in for a drink."

She paused, his arms slipping from her waist slightly, expecting her to continue. Her thoughts flicked to Addie and her family. Surely one of them had attempted to check on her by now. She could either go back now and face her uncle's fury, or she could come back much later, giving herself at least until morning before she got busted for her little escape. Before William even had a chance to ask anything, she made her way back into his arm, ready to face whatever the night brought with him. Adventure was the goal, and adventure she'd pursue.

Just as William grabbed the door handle, Ophelia grabbed his elbow, stopping him. "Won't your mother be upset you're bringing home a girl in the middle of the night?"

He laughed. "My mother's at the country estate for the evening. And even if she _were_ here, I'm the "man of the house." I can invite as many pretty girls in as I please."

"You should really obey your mother's wishes."

"Are you obey your uncle's wishes right now? I can't imagine that the earl would be too pleased that his darling, summertime ward is running off in the middle of the night with the notorious Duke of Highcaster." He held open the door, following her into the entryway.

"Touche." She shrugged, unable to come up with an argument. Her eyes drifted around the room, now empty instead of brimming with drunken partygoers. Returning her gaze to William, she continued. "Now where is this drink you've promised me? I'm positively parched."

"Of course," His lips twisted into it's ever-familiar smirk as he returned his arm to her waist, leading her into what she vaguely remembered as the library. "Right this way, mademoiselle."

As she followed him into the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the large portrait above the fireplace, featuring the handsome image of the late duke alongside his wife, and four children, two of which barely more than infants. She had known William had a brother and sister, they had frequented her uncle's parties in seasons prior. Her eyes shifted to the two boys standing beside their father, both looking fairly similar. While the younger one had brooding eyes and mouth tilted into what was almost a pout, the older of the two has a mischievous and familiar smirk on his face. Looking at it, she knew something felt off, but before she even had time to process the painting, a loud voice made her jump.

"Brother!" A scrappy, younger version of William crossed the room, half-empty bottle of champagne in hand. His mouth broke into a large, playful smile, an expression that seemed incredibly strange placed on William's features. "So you finally decided to join us. And you've brought a guest! A very lovely one, I might add."

"My brother, Albert." He rolled his eyes. "This is Miss Ophelia Poirier."

"Bertie." The boy smiled, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Poirier."

"Ophelia, please." It finally clicked in her head, this was the boy she had seen in the doorway just minutes earlier. She was surprised that she actually had mistaken the lanky boy for William, despite the darkness outside. She smiled, her cheeks turning pink, "And it's a pleasure indeed."

"Where did Annie and Harold run off to?" The warmth from William's hand disappeared as he took the bottle of champagne from his brother's hand. He began pouring glasses as his brother leaned on the arm of a chair.

"Off to bed, I assume." The boy shrugged, "They went to check on the baby and never came back. Parenting makes it a bit more difficult to stay up the way you do."

William rolled his eyes with a smile, picking up the two champagne flutes. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"I don't get how he does it." Bertie laughed, pouring what was left of the champagne into his empty glass. "You have your work cut out for you, Ophelia. I sure hope you're a vampire."

"Oh we aren't…" She paused, glancing at William, who seemed unfazed from the conversation. He handed her the second glass champagne, as she noticed Bertie's quizzical look. With a smile, she continued, dropping what she said before. "Thankfully, I'm a bit of a night owl myself. We Parisians are up all night and sleep all day."

"Unfortunately, we Britons like to rise early and turn in late." William smiled, sipping his champagne.

"Speaking of turning in late, I hate to abandon you both, but I really must be off." Bertie smiled, lives ever so slightly turning into a smirk. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Ophelia. Perhaps I'll see you at our cricket match this weekend?"

"Cricket match?" She looked between the two." "I don't…"

"At Blackphrey Park," William finally seemed interested in the conversation. "It's our annual match. A favorite of mine."

She stared at him. She didn't even know what Blackphrey Park was. Still, she put on a smile, "Of course. I love cricket."

Bertie seemed to perk up instantly. "That's wonderful. I'll make sure mother sets up a room for you. You know, we've been looking for a scorekeeper, and you'd fit the bill perfectly."

"Oh, wonderful!"

"Perfect, our game should be all set, then." Bertie smiled brightly at her before giving a playful bow. "And with that, I bid you both adieu. I shall see you _both_ at the match."

Ophelia waited in silence after bidding Bertie a goodnight. The moment the door shut behind him, William turned to look at her.

"You don't know anything about cricket, do you?"

"Not one bit."


	16. Chapter 16

"I'm not sure I have much of the house left to show you. Blackphrey has plenty more secrets." William laughed, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. They were back in the foyer, the only light trailing in from the library's open fireplace in the library had nearly sputtered out in the time they were gone, leaving the room darker than before. He took the empty champagne flute from her hand, leaving it on a table near the bottom of the stairs. "I'm sorry that tonight ended up being such a dud. I didn't realize everyone would leave so early."

"It's alright," She smiled, instinctively moving closer to him. "It's your company I'm here to enjoy. You're the most interesting thing I've found in London, so far."

"Maybe London just isn't what you're looking for."

"Maybe it's not… but I came here to enjoy myself." She smiled, brushing a hair behind her ear. "And every time I'm with you, that's exactly what I do."

The stood in silence for a moment, his eyes scanning her face. Finally, a he cracked a grin, a thought coming to him. "Would you like to go for a drive?"

"A drive? Isn't it awfully late?" Her thoughts immediately shifted to her family at home. They would all be asleep by now.

"I never sleep, remember?" He smirked. He offered his hand to her. "Let's call it an adventure."

Her ears immediately perked at the word. Without even thinking about it, she grabbed his hand, a smile spreading across her face. "An adventure."

* * *

"Here we are." William's hand slipped from hers as he opened the doors, moonlight streaming into the garage. despite the darkness, she could see the moonlight reflecting the shiny vehicle, tucked away in the darkness. She nearly gasped as William lit a lamp inside the garage.

"What is it?" She immediately moved closer to the car. The paint was a lovely cream color, with sparkling chrome reflecting back at her. She ran her fingers over the wheel well as he went to work starting it.

"A Rolls Royce. A Ghost." He smiled, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Do you drive?"

"Oh no, my father would never let me. I don't even know anyone who could teach me. It is lovely though…"

"Your father won't let you? I thought you were wilder than that, Miss Poirier."

"He's very protective of me, what can I say? He'll let me do a lot of things, but controlling what he thinks is a metal death trap is not one of them."

"I could always teach you, if you'd like." He stood as the engine grumbled to a start, brushing off his hands. "Although, I think we'll wait until theres a bit more sunlight."

"I'd like that." She smiled, cheeks turning pink. "Very much."

"Then it's settled then." He smiled, pulling on a pair of driving gloves, before making his way over to her. Pulling open the rear door, he offered a hand. "Mademoiselle?"

"Why thank you, monsieur." Lifting her skirt with one hand and taking his hand with the other, she climbed into the back, sitting back on the soft leather seat. Closing the door behind her, he offered her a woolen blanket.

"It might be chilly out on the road. I don't want you freezing in my backseat."

"Why thank you." She smiled cheekily. "My, so very thoughtful."

"I try my best." He shrugged with a smirk. Climbing into his own seat he turned towards her. "Where to, mademoiselle?"

"Anywhere but here." She laughed, her cheeks flushing as he pulled out of the garage.

* * *

The ride wasn't terribly long out of the city, although there was something special about the city's streets were almost entirely empty, save for the handfuls of late-night partygoers. Her eyes shifted up to the sky as the city lights became darker, and the stars became brighter. For the majority of the ride they both stayed in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of them had any need to talk.

She watched as William maneuvered the car, a shiver racing along her spine as she watched his hands adjust grip on the wheel. A part of her was chastising her for her actions that night. She had run away with a strange, unbearably handsome man in the middle of the night. They had flirted the entire evening, and now they were out on their own in the middle of the night. It was ridiculous, and stupid. Her father would likely kill her if he had any clue what she was doing. But then there was the other part of her. The part that didn't really mind if her father went ballistic. She was running off in the middle of the night, taking in everything life had to offer her. She was flying down dark roads in a motorcar with a handsome duke notorious for his "bad-boy" behavior. It was the start of a wild summer fling that she'd desperately craved. It was strange and new and invigorating and precisely the adventure she had been looking for.

She laid her arms across the seat in front of her, resting her cheek on her forearms. She flushed, realizing she could smell William's cologne. Her head spun slightly, remembering the night of the party, the way the scent of him threw her into a tizzy. She remembered the way his lips felt on her, his hands trailing their way down her spine, the delicate touch of his tongue on her lip. She watched as his hair moved in the wind, her eyes trailing along his jawline and slowly making their way down his body, heat chasing through her body in a mixture of embarrassment and desire. Her chest rose quickly as she flushed. She sat all alone in a car with the human equivalent of a greek god. She wanted all of him.

"Enjoying the ride?" William's eyes remained on the road for some time, waiting for her response. When she didn't answer, he glanced at her, slight concern in his voice. "Ophelia?"

"William." Her voice came out in a husky whisper, surprising even herself. She dug her nails into the leather in front of her. He turned to look at her, an immediate look of surprise crossing his face. She urged, still, repeating, "William."

His surprise suddenly shifted to comprehension. He knew precisely what she was asking of him, she had no doubts about that. Without saying anything more, William pulled into a small, graveled area just off the road, shrouded by trees, although the cover of night was plenty enough. Shutting off the car, he turned in his seat, but before a word could escape his mouth, she crashed her lips against his. She had been patient far too long to waste any more time. Her hands made their way up his chest as his lips moved in time with hers. Despite her inexperience, she knew exactly what to do. She was insatiable. She knew what she wanted. Without hesitation, she tugged him by the lapels, pulling him into the backseat. Thankfully, he was aware of what she was trying to do, and he stepped over the seat that separated them both.

"My, my, Ophelia, aren't you demanding?" He chuckled, breaking the kiss. Before she even had time to take in the cocky expression on his face, she pulled him close to her once more.

"Just shut up and kiss me." She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate for his touch.

"Very demanding, I see." Without hesitation, he took complete control of the situation, planting a rugged kiss on her mouth and holding her close. She felt the slight stubble on his cheeks scratch at her face. It made her all the more desperate. She felt as if she would melt in his lap. His fingers left trails of sparks as they traced their way down her spine, finally finding their place in the small of her back. She arched her body against his in response, acutely aware of even the slightest sensation. She had no idea what she was doing, but everything felt natural in the moment. As the kiss deepened, so did her desperation for his touch.

"William." Her voice surprised her once again, this time much different than before. While there was undoubtedly desperation in her voice, his name came out as a command rather than a plea. In silent communication, she pressed her body against his, her hips desperate to meet resistance.

William's eyes connected with hers, processing what she was saying. He knew precisely what she wanted, he wasn't ignorant. He knew precisely the right moves. Her heart rate skyrocketed as she felt his hand leave its place from the small of her back watching carefully as he yanked off his driving glove with his teeth. Slowly, his warm fingers made their way along her bare thigh, her dress now hiked up much higher than it should have been and her knickers on full display. At any other time she'd be embarrassed, but right now was not just any other time. She squirmed uncomfortably as his fingers traced patterns along her thigh.

"Silly girl…" His lips curled into a devilish smirk. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"William…"

Without breaking eye-contact, his fingers finally slipped between her legs, touching her in precisely the right spot. Her mouth open slightly, a small gasp passing through her lips. Her hips bucked in response to his touch, her whole body flushing. Her hands slipped slightly from his neck before she tightened her grip on him, pulling him against her chest. Her whole body felt electrified and he controlled the switch. Her head dropped back as he increased his rhythm, his lips finding their place on her neck, sending her into haze. But as her pleasure mounted, she became consciously aware of another increasing desire.

"William…" His name came out as little more than a moan. "I want….I need…"

"What?" His words purred against her neck sending shivers across her body. "What do you need?"

"You."


	17. Chapter 17

Her heart pounded in her ears the entire way home. Even though it felt as if they stayed tangled for hours, it was still dark as William drove them back into the city. Her entire body seemed to buzz with excitement. The thrill of the moment still coursing through her mind. William seemed unfazed, though, his arm wrapped around her as they sat together in the front seat.

Despite her excitement, she couldn't help but close her eyes, her heavy eyelids making her well-aware just how tired she was. With a sigh, she moved closer to William, curling up against his chest, the drone of the engine and the sound of his heartbeat singing rhythms in her head. Any of her previous doubts about his character seemed to disappear as he tightened his arm around her. She knew there was a truth to what Addie had said about him. She never doubted it. He was a playboy, through and through. It was in his nature. But driving alone down these dark, English roads, with his arm wrapped protectively around her she felt like things just might be different this time. He had been so very delicate with her, despite her embarrassing greed. She felt at home with him. Which was more than she could say about the rest of her time in London.

Without warning, the engine grumbled to a stop. She pulled the wool blanket close to her chin as William's arm left it's place around her.

"Why did we stop?"

"We're home." Her question was met with a soft laugh as William unlatched the door.

"Home?" She finally opened her eyes, surprised to see the garage once again.

"C'mon, let's get you home before you're in too much trouble."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep…" She took William's hand as he helped her out of the car. She slipped on the blanket, stumbling slightly. Thankfully, William caught her quickly.

"Careful…" He helped her down, taking the blanket from her hands and tossing it into the backseat. "But I don't blame you. You've had a busy night, Miss Poirier."

Her cheeks immediately turned red as William began to chuckle. "I'm sorry about that…"

"Sorry? I don't think you're very sorry at all." He smirked. "Not when you seemed so…enthusiastic. I do hope you enjoyed yourself, at the very least. I know I did."

She remained silent, the flush in her cheeks quickly spreading to her whole body. She _had_ enjoyed herself, maybe a little too much. But the fact that William might have enjoyed himself just as much made her shiver giddily.

"Let's get you home, shall we?" Closing the garage door, he returned to her side. "I'm sorry I couldn't drive you, I know you're tired. I figured walking would be a little less inconspicuous. I don't want to make your uncle any angrier than he has to be."

"It's okay." She yawned. "It's probably for the best."

"Think you can stay awake long enough to make it home?"

"I'm sure I can manage."

The walk was short, the two of them matching pace in comfortable silence, just as their car ride began. Their hands brushed as they walked in time, the only sound being their feet on the pavement and the quiet stirrings of the city as it began to wake. Even though she had been asleep only minutes before, she didn't feel terribly tired anymore. Her heart felt as if it was skipping a beat each time his hand touched hers. She didn't understand how this dark horse had captured her in such a storm of emotion so suddenly. Nor did she understand how he had taken such interest in her, a plain, French girl with poor manners and a penchant for clumsiness. It was exhilarating.

Unfortunately, the walk ended much too soon, the two of them ending their walk near a servants' entrance, crowded under a small overhang. Her heart leapt as his hand stroked her neck gently, before trailing under her chin.

"I shall see you soon, Miss Poirier."

Then his lips were on hers, breaking the space between them completely. His lips moved softly against hers, his arms slowly wrapping around her waist to raise her closer to him. This kiss was different than the fervent, desperate kisses they had shared earlier in the night. She wasn't even sure William was capable of this kind of kiss, slow, and gentle, and perhaps it was only in her head, but loving. While the urgency for him was still happily satiated, she kissed back effortlessly. She would be glad to kiss him like this forever. It was perhaps the sweetest his lips had ever tasted to her. And of course, it ended all too soon.

"Get some sleep." His hand pushed a messy strand from her cheek, warm under his touch. "I'll be sure to write to you tomorrow. Or should I say this morning?"

"Yes…" She wasn't sure what to say, still starry-eyed from the kiss. "William…"

"Sleep." He smirked, stepping away. "You need it."

* * *

She was more than thankful that the servants had yet to rise for the day as she snuck her way back upstairs through the servants passages. The hall as she passed her Aunt and Uncle's rooms were still silent as she crept her way into her room, latching the door behind her as silently as possible. She was aware that the room had been put back in order some time the night before, as her note to Eva had disappeared along with her dress and shoes. She made her way to the vanity, using the table as a grip as she kicked off her heels.

More than anything, she wanted to collapse into bed, but she knew she needed to undress before giving that a go. She paused as she caught her reflection in the mirror, a wave of emotions washing over her to her own surprise. She moved closer, examining the girl who stood before her. Her hair was disheveled, and her cheeks seemed permanently flushed. She supposed she didn't look much different at all, but she felt as if she was an entirely different person.

She tried to imagine how William must have looked at her, turning slightly. She had felt confident the entire night, despite her messy hair and the torn dress that now dragged slightly on the floor. She wondered if he found her beautiful. She didn't feel very beautiful, looking like this. Pretty, maybe, sometimes, not now. But beautiful felt like a stretch. Her father always called her beautiful. But she felt as if he was only making sure she never felt the way he did. She scanned herself in the mirror, expressing the same complaints as always. Her shoulders were too bony, her hips too wide. No matter how much she avoided the sun, freckles were still smattered across her arms and cheeks. She wasn't sure how William found her so alluring. He had the pick of the lot. Yet somehow he chose her.

She smoothed her hands over the dress, picking at the fraying tear. She hoped Eva would be able to fix it, but she knew that the fabric was much too delicate to manage. Without being able to give it a further thought, she noticed a new and undoubtedly telling stain towards the bottom of the hem, just where the dress had been earlier hiked around her waist. Her cheeks turned hot as she realized with a sudden urgency that she had to get rid of the dress. She had put Eva through many things, but this level of embarrassment would not be one of them. Without further though, she squirmed her way out of the dress, not minding the worsening tear. The dress was already a lost cause. Scandal was her middle name, but she wouldn't dare give any fuel to the fire. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, hoping for a place to hide the dress until she'd have time to dispose of it. Without a second thought, she tossed the crumpled dress into the box that still waited in the corner of her room. She hoped she would have the time later to dispose of it, but for now it would have to do.

Closing the lid, the late night seemed to finally catch up with her. She stood from where she knelt on the floor, feeling as if her body weighed a thousand pounds. She untied her corset, loosening it somewhat, but she was far too tired to wrangle her way out of it on her own. It would simply have to do. With dragging feet, she made her way to the bed. Plonking onto the soft mattress, she let the plush covers envelop her, letting the night melt away as she fell asleep.

Unfortunately, her sleep didn't last long at all.

"Good morning, mademoiselle." Eva pulled open the curtains, letting the warm, summer sun spread across the floor and, unfortunately, into her sleep-heavy eyes.

"Oh, Eva…" She grumbled, pulling a bundle of covers against her face. "Not today…"

"I'm sorry, mademoiselle. Your uncle seems very…adamant on seeing you."

"Of course he does…" She groaned, willing herself to finally sit up. "I suppose that means I should take my time getting ready this morning."

"I wouldn't advise it, he's quite upset. Although I can't say I blame you." Eva busied herself, preparing the room for the day. "I've drawn a bath for you. I had a feeling you might want one after a late night."

"Thank you, Eva." Ophelia sighed, dragging herself out of bed. Eva helped her out of her underclothes as she made her way to her bath. She would need it. Just before she closed the door behind her, she turned to her maid who was already laying out her clothes for the day. "Perhaps pick out something a bit more…conservative. For my uncle's sake, at least, if not my own."


	18. Chapter 18

"I can't believe you would dare sneak out like this, Ophelia. I'm disappointed in you."

She stood in silence, her hands folded meekly in from of her as her uncle paced.

"I simply cannot understand what must have been going through your mind. Actually, I do understand. Nothing must have been going through your mind, because you weren't thinking at all!" Her uncle was fuming. "Not only did you risk your reputation by running off like some harlot in the middle of the night, you risked my reputation and my family's reputation."

She kept her lips locked tight as her uncle paced the floor, his face turning redder and redder with each step. _Harlot._ She wanted to shout back, but she knew better. Hell, he wasn't completely wrong there, she supposed. But his words still stung.

"What do you suppose we would have done if someone had seen you, hm? Did you think this through at all? London isn't like Paris, Ophelia. We don't just run around, flaunting loose morals. I get it, I've lived there. I know what it's like. But we are _not_ the same." He finally stopped to look at her, his face a stony frown. "I'll have to tell your father about this, you know."

Her blood instantly ran cold. Sure, her uncle could be mad at her all he wanted, he could scream and yell and lock her in her room for the rest of the Season. But if her father caught wind of her late-night rendezvous? Her uncle might as well serve her head on a platter.

"Oh no, please!" She could have practically dropped to her knees and begged. "Don't tell papa, please, Uncle. He'll send me home in a heartbeat."

"I'm not so sure that's such a bad idea." Her uncle paused to check his watch. "I'll have to call your father later. I'll have Parker speak to your lady's maid about gathering your things later this evening."

"Wait, this can't be _it._ I've hardly been here." She felt hot tears welling up in her eyes, which only made her more upset. She cried at everything. All of her emotions poured out her eyes, she felt. She clenched her fists at her sides, trying to hold back the tears. "I can't just go home."

"I'm afraid you can."

"But…" She paused, betraying tears rolling down her cheeks. "I can't just go. It's my last Season with Addie before she's a married woman. By next year she'll be dealing with a husband, probably even a baby."

Her uncle remained silent, so she continued.

"I can't just go back to Paris and find another man living in another opera house. I'm not my mother. I don't even know how to do these things. I'm sorry I made a mistake, I don't exactly have a good grasp of how this world works yet…" She sniffled, unsure whether she was even bluffing or not. "I know what I did was stupid. I wasn't thinking, I don't want a scandal any more than you do. I just… I just…"

They both stood in silence while she sniffled. His expression faltered slightly when he finally looked at her. But he quickly returned to his stony default.

"One more chance. One more mistake and you're on the first train back to Paris, understand? I cant afford another scandal on this house. That means no more late-night disappearances. You must be accompanied by a chaperone every time you're outside of these walls. And you must check with me before you go anywhere without Addie or Martha, understand?" He checked his watch once more. "Now, I really must get going. We'll discuss this more this evening. But I expect you to stay here until then, no going out today."

"Oh, goodness. Thank you so much!" She tossed her arms around her uncle, who remained stony as ever. "Than you, Uncle Henri! I promise, no more mistakes and positively no scandals."

"Then I shall see you this evening."

Once her uncle finally left the room, she plopped onto a sofa. Although she wasn't being sent home just yet, she wasn't sure if she has been dealt a very fair hand. A chaperone? Designated check-ins? She sighed, slumping into a slouch. This would be a very long summer. For a moment, she pondered if it would be so terrible going back to Paris early. At least if she left on her own accord, her father wouldn't have to be as overbearing as she feared. Her thoughts first drifted to William, before turning to Addie. What she had said to her uncle about her wasn't a lie in the slightest. This _was_ her last Season with Addie, something she hadn't fully realized until now. She and Arthur would soon be married, and knowing their very proactive hobbies, a baby would be soon to follow. While being the single one of the bunch has never upset her before, it bothered her that suddenly she'd be on her own.

Addie was her partner in crime, despite their rocky relationship this summer. She was the closest thing she had to a sister, and Addie taught her everything she knew growing up. Though her father did his best, he was just as clueless as she was when it came to womanhood. Addie was her one connection to the "real world," and without her, she would have likely been just as reclusive as her father. Addie was the closest friend she'd ever had, and this summer would be her last chance having her all to herself.

She stood from the sofa, wondering if Addie was even home. She hadn't had the chance to eat breakfast, much less speak to her cousin. It was if she had walked right into the lion's den the moment she came down for breakfast. Her stomach grumbled as if on cue. She'd hope there'd at least be some fruit left in the dining room. She paused by the writing desk as she made her way to the door. With her uncle's newest "laws," she's have to ward of William, at least for a little while. She grabbed a few leaves of stationary and made her way to the dining room.

A few maids were already cleaning the remains of the breakfast, but she waved them on politely. She grabbed a pear from the bowl on the buffet and sat at the end of the table as the maids worked on the other end of the room. With a bite from the pear, she pulled out the fountain pen she kept tucked away in a pocket of her dress. Unscrewing the cap, she began to write. It would be simple, but it would have to suffice for now.

 _Dear William,_ she wrote, before scratching it out, leaving a damp puddle of rose-red ink. She wasn't even sure how to address him after all that had happened last night. It was an informal note, but he was still a duke. She knew better than to call him by any sort of pet name, but should she call him dearest? Or perhaps just dear? Should she say anything like that in the first place? Sure, they had been quite intimate with each other the night before, but she wasn't sure that it meant she laid claim to him. Once her uncle lets up on her somewhat, she'd definitely need to clarify what was going on between her and William.

 _William,_ she been again, foregoing any formalities at all. _It seems that my uncle has indeed decided to hold me captive as we'd feared. I won't be able to join you today, but I hope to see you soon enough, once my bars are finally lifted. Shall I still see you this week-end at Blackphrey Park? (I might have to weasel my way past my uncle, but I'll try my hardest.) If so, perhaps I'll use my time in my cage brushing up on my cricket knowledge. With love, Ophelia._

Her hand hovered over the paper. She hadn't intended on ending the letter like that, lest she frighten William away. She could easily re-write the letter if she chose, but something in her gut told her to leave it as-is. There wasn't that much weight in her words, anyway. After writing William's name on the envelope, she returned the cap to her pen and placed it back in her pocket. She doubted he would even pay that much attention to her words. She fanned the paper with her hand, waiting for the ink to dry so she could stuff it into the envelope.

Sealing the envelope, she stood from the table, taking another pear from the bowl. Luncheon wasn't too terribly far away, and it would do for now. She peered out into the hallway, hoping she knew at least one of the servants that might pass by. As luck may have it, she spotted Parker beside the front door. Standing up straight, she made her way towards him, letter hidden in her hand.

"Good morning, Parker." She smiled brightly at the man. Even when she wasn't carrying out some devious plan, she was glad to see Parker.

"Good morning, Miss Ophelia." He returned the smile with a warm grin. He seemed to be in a particularly good mood today, and that she was glad of.

"I was wondering, Parker, if you could possibly do me a favor this afternoon?" She flashed her best heart-tugging smile, one she often used on her father.

"Why, of course, miss. What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, you see, there is a gentleman coming by later this afternoon to see me. But as I'm sure you heard my uncle saying earlier, I'm currently under house arrest." She moved in closer, dropping her voice. "I like him very much, Parker. And I can't just leave him in the dark, I don't want to put him off."

"What are you asking of me, Miss Ophelia?"

"All I ask is that you just give him this…" She held out the letter, looking up at Parker with doe-eyes. "My uncle won't have to know. It's only a letter, anyways. It would mean so much if you could do this for me."

Parker stood silent for a moment, contemplating, before taking the note with a sigh. A small smile crept onto his face. "Of course I can do this for you, Miss Ophelia. I don't want to be the decisive wedge between you and happiness."

"Oh, thank you, Parker!" She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, stretching up to place a grateful kiss on his cheek. "You don't know how much it means to me! I promise, no one will need to know a thing."


	19. Chapter 19

The booming sound of thunder startled her awake, the sound rattling the window beside her. She was still curled up on a sofa in the library, her book now closed, having fallen to the ground. Deciding against retrieving it, she turned her attention to the rain that tapped against the window. It was nearing six in the evening by now, and the street was still somewhat busy, despite the rain. She watched the passersby with their umbrellas, and the occasional few without one, the heavy raindrops splashing off the sidewalks onto their shoes. A low rumble of thunder shook the house once more.

She turned away from the window, slipping her feet back into her shoes which she had pushed beneath the sofa. She returned her book to the sofa before standing, allowing herself to stretch. God, she hoped her uncle would be a bit more lenient after today. She tucked the book under her arm, a hopelessly bland explanation of the rules and laws of cricket, and made her way into the parlor. The house was completely empty, save for the servants, and she was glad she could at least have some time by herself, if that's all this day could afford her. Her uncle was still out doing whatever he did, and she doubted Addie had returned from her latest outing with Martha or Arthur, or whoever she decided to visit today. She didn't even bother wondering where her aunt might be, she was never home.

She made her way to the piano that sat in the corner of the room. She hadn't touched it since she'd arrived in London. Her father had it sent when she was only 9 or 10 years old, when he was first willing enough to send her to London with her family. Even though he hadn't the need to pressure her to play in years, she was sure he'd be upset if he learned she hadn't touched the thing in weeks. She sat at the bench, opening the lid to reveal the keys, The milky ivory had become a little worn over the years, but the piano still looked lovely.

As she tested a chord, it was clear the piano hadn't been touched since the last time she was in London. Addie hated playing music, and her uncle always left the musical skills to her mother. She'd have to get it tuned, but she had no need to bother today. She stuck the same chord again, listening to it ring out through the room. With enough imagination and wishful thinking, she could push away the off-sounding keys.

She began with a simple tune, letting her fingers stretch over the keys. She sighed as the melody became more complex, shifting into one from her childhood. Even though the piano didn't enthuse her quite as much as it did her father, playing calmed her. It made her think of home. She closed her eyes and let the music take over for a while. It was nice to not have to think for a while.

As the music flowed from her fingertips, she began to sing along. It wasn't very complex, something from an opera she had forgotten the name of long ago. Singing was much more her speed, dancing too, in fact, she quite excelled at them both. Above all, they were her passions, although she didn't bother making much of it. Her father had constantly begged her to join productions, and she often took lessons with her dancer friends, but her nerves often bested her. She feared her love would die out if they became more of a job than a hobby.

The song shifted into something more cheerful as she thought of home, a silly American song she had learned when she was only 14 or so. Her father hated it, which only made her play it more. It as a silly kind of show-tune, the kind you'd hear at a fair. Her fingers bounced off the keys playfully as she put on her best American accent, which she'd be the first to admit wasn't perfect. She couldn't help but move along to the music, performing the song as dramatically as she could.

" _Give my regards to Broadway_ ," She sang the chorus cheerily, putting on her most dramatic New Yorker facade, "r _emember me to Herald Square! Tell all the gang at Fourty-Second Street…_ "

She continued singing about a city she's never been to, and honestly knew nothing about, although she desperately wished to visit. She could barely stifle her giggles as she played, picking up the tempo. As the song reached it's end, she held the final note with as much dramatic flair as she could muster. As she played the final note, she was met with loud applause. With a start, she turned around, her cheeks turning red.

"Bravo!"

Arthur and Addie stood in the doorway, both of them laughing.

"Splendid!" Arthur's voice boomed off the walls as Addie continued to laugh.

Ophelia stood from the piano, taking a deep bow, taking the embarrassment in her stride. "I'm so glad you enjoyed my performance."

"I had no idea you were such a performer." Arthur stated, the laughter between them finally slowing.

"Why of course, don't you know? Ophelia comes from quite the musical pair. Her father, my uncle, is quite the composer!"

"Although I'm not too sure he'd appreciate American show tunes," Ophelia laughed.

"Well maybe not, but he is a marvelous musician. He taught me how to play the violin."

"You're terrible at the violin, Addie, I'm not sure if that's a good representation of papa."

"Whatever the case may be," Arthur waved his hand with a laugh. "I'll certainly have to meet him!"

"Soon enough, of course." Addie smirked.

"Well after all is said and done tonight, it wont be very long, now will it?" Arthur smirked playfully back at Addie and Ophelia suddenly felt as if she had interrupted quite the private moment.

"What's tonight?" She asked, suddenly shy.

Arthur and Addie shared a look before Addie finally spoke up.

"Arthur is asking father for his blessing tonight."

"Oh!" Her voice came out as an excited squeak. "I'm so excited for you both! Will you announce it soon then?"

"Perhaps next week-end, that is, if father says yes."

"Oh how exciting," she gushed. "I wish you both the best of luck tonight."

Addie pulled her into a hug, barely able to hold in her own excitement. Breaking away, she smiled. "We should be getting dressed for dinner…Sit by me tonight? So I'm not so nervous."

"Of course," she laughed. "Although I'm certain it will be fine."

As the trio made their way out of the room, she fell back, realizing that she still hadn't talked to Addie about anything that had transpired the night before. She worried she was being selfish. Of course, she needed to tell Addie. She couldn't just hide it from her, they shared everything. But she also realized that Addie would be very unhappy with her decision. Running off in the middle of the night just to knock boots with the exact person she told her to avoid would clearly not sit well with her. As important as it was that she tell Addie, she wasn't sure tonight would be the best time. But if she avoided it any longer, she knew Addie would be upset.

"Addie?" She paused on the steps as Arthur parted ways with them to change.

"Yes?" She turned around, her cheeks still glowing from excitement.

"Can I talk to you after dinner?" She struggled to keep her voice as relaxed as possible.

"Of course." Addie paused, reaching the top of the stairs. Her smile faltered slightly. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, of course! I just need to speak with you, when you have the chance."

Addie smiled. "Well of course. After dinner. We'll go for a walk in the garden, alright?"

"Alright." She forced a nervous smile. "Sounds perfect."


	20. Chapter 20

Hot breath warmed her neck as she tightened her arms around his neck. Her fingertips traced their way through his hair as his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against his body. Her heart pumped loudly, drowning out the sounds of the night air that surrounded them, icy on her hot skin. His lips traced her collarbone, his teeth scraping the skin along her neck. She shivered in response, her skin flushing. She ran her hands along his shoulders, feeling the intricate little muscles move beneath the skin, as he moved with her. She was desperate to touch his skin, separated by little more than a thin layer of fabric.

Her pulse picked up as his lips moved to the spot just behind her ear.

"How can you be so bad when you look so good?"

"I suppose I just know how to play my cards right…" She smirked, tossing her head back as William's lips trailed their way down her neck.

William's lips were suddenly gone as her head smacked against the window. The cool night air was replaced by that of a stuffy train car. The window rattled slightly as she rubbed the sore spot on her temple. She took in her surroundings once more. Her aunt, dozing in the seat across from her, the purse beside her whose contents had spilled across the seat, a book dangling precariously on her lap. She turned her gaze to the window, beyond which passed English countryside, an occasional estate, livestock or farm.

She wondered how long it would be now, she wasn't sure how long she had been asleep. She glanced at her aunt, recalling they conversation from earlier that day. While she spent the week-end at Blackphrey Park, her aunt would stay in the country house. Her uncle's plan for a chaperone failed quite miserably, her aunt would do her best to ignore her husband's wishes. And if that meant going away to the country while she spent the weekend with some man then so be it.

She rested her head against the window once more, listening to the monotonous churning of the wheels against the track. She folded her hands in her lap, watching as the green hills passed by. Tentatively, she returned her thoughts to William, the way his fingers found their perfect spot along her spine, the way he whispered her name against her neck. She hadn't seen him since, and she ached for him. More than anything she had just wanted to see him again, not even thinking particularly much of the sexual aspect. More than that, she craved his presence. She was drawn to him in a way that both embarrassed and confused her. She had sworn to herself that she wanted to remain in a sort of "no strings attached" mindset, but suddenly William seemed to consume her every thought. As exhilarating as it felt, it scared her just as much.

* * *

The drive to Blackphrey was surprisingly short, passing quickly through the village. She sat on the edge of her seat, tapping her foot nervously. The village was lovely, and positively flooded with flowers, but her mind was on the manor up the hill, just peeking above the village and the trees. More importantly, her mind was stuck on a certain gentleman waiting for her there. Her stomach was full of butterflies as she smoothed her hair. She wasn't precisely sure _why_ she was so nervous, but the damp palms of her gloves surely proved that she was. She yanked them off of her hands, flapping them frantically to dry them. Unfortunately, her efforts couldn't save her much, the drive up to the house becoming shorter and shorter by the moment. Without another option, she pulled the gloves back on and finally settled back into her seat.

Climbing out of the car, she was met by the butler of the house. The man stood sturdily with a stiff upper lip and an impeccable posture.

"Ophelia Poirier." She smiled, stepping from the car.

"Welcome to Blackphrey Park, Miss Poirier." He nodded a quick hello. "Tea will be taken in the drawing room at four o'clock, if you'd like to freshen up beforehand. I'll send up a lady's maid to help you get settled."

"Thank you." She smiled politely, trailing after him as he led her inside. Her breath was suddenly taken from her as she took in the foyer of the house. The marble foyer, which her shoes clicked against as she walked, turned into sweeping staircases on either side of the room, meeting at the middle on the second floor. Lovely carved marble melded with the ceiling as her eyes moved upwards. Through windows, light flooded the room, steaming colors across the floor through the stained glass. Above her, the sunlight illuminated a scene that took her breath away.

On the ceiling was a fresco of sorts, beautiful and overwhelming, she could hardly help from gawking. She had seen the beauty of architecture and art many times through her father, but the image above her stunned her into a silence, her jaw practically dropping to the floor. While she knew little about biblical stories, she was able to recognize the scene that played out above her head. Two brothers, one striking down the other. Cain and Abel, she remembered, the sons of Adam and Eve. Over Cain's shoulder was a heavenly figure surrounded by puffy clouds and cherubim. It was God, she presumed, exiling Cain for his sin. She was shocked that such a gorgeous work would be in just a country home rather than some marvel of architecture. Before she could gape any longer, she returned her eyes to the present. She hurried to follow the butler up the stairs, noting that he was much quicker than she expected.

As he lead her down the hall, she noticed the small placards on each door, listing the names of each occupant for the week-end. She was surprised at just how many rooms there seemed to be, and just how many guests would be staying. The butler stopped before her, turning and opening the door for her. Her room was in the middle of the hallway, she noted, between a couple she didn't recognize and another name she didn't know.

"Here you are, Miss Poirier. Your bags will be brought up soon. I'll send up your maid immediately."

"Thank you,…" She paused, realizing she never even learned the man's name.

"Johnson, Miss. Forgive me for not saying sooner."

"Johnson." She smiled. "Thank you for your help, Johnson."

With a quick nod, he closed the door behind her, and she was suddenly alone once more.

Setting down her bag, she finally took in her bedroom for the next few days. She walked across the room and pushed open the curtains, letting the summer sun stream in. She crossed the room again, running her fingertips over the bedspread. The bed was large and plush, covered with cushy throw pillows. Before she could plop down and try it for herself, a small rap sounded at the door and a lanky redheaded woman peeked her head around the door.

"Pardon me, miss." Her voice was meek, yet thick with a heavy Irish accent, introducing herself as Clara.

"Oh come in, please." She smiled, waving in the maid. The girl squeezed past the door, followed by a footman bringing in her luggage. After he left the girl was quick to help her let out her clothes for the week-end, wary of any wrinkles.

After the clothes were placed in their new homes, the maid finally spoke up. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to wear to tea, miss?"

"Hmm…" She surveyed the clothes which she had brought with her, her fingers running over the fabrics before stopping on a pale, cornflower-colored frock. She pulled the dress out and eyed it for a moment before turning to the girl. Cheeks flushing, she lowered her voice, although there was no one there who could even overhear. "Does this look romantic to you? I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard…"

The girl studied her face for a moment before a small smile broke across her face. "I think it's lovely, miss. Effortlessly lovely."

"Thank you, Clara…" She handed the dress to the girl, a soft blush on her cheeks. "I suppose I should get ready then, hm?"


	21. Chapter 21

She made her way into the parlor, smoothing her dress and tugging at her gloves before passing through the door. Johnson's voice boomed beside her, announcing her as she walked in. Her cheeks instantly flushed as a room full of strangers turned to look at her.

"Ah, Ophelia!" Before she even had time to take in the room, Bertie approached her, breaking off from a small group who sat chatting on the sofas.

"Lord Albert." She smiled, greeting him warmly.

"Bertie!" He chided her, shaking his head at her.

"Bertie." She smiled. "Of course."

"Perfect. Now, I'm so glad you turned up! I wasn't sure you still planned on it." He smiled leading her over to the group he had originally been with. "Care to be introduced?"

"Of course." She smiled, approaching the group.

"Ophelia!" She was surprised to hear a familiar voice in the crowd, an instant wave of relief washing over her.

"Martha!" She smiled, kissing the girl on both cheeks.

"Ahem…" Bertie cleared his voice, sending a playful glare to Martha. "I said I would be the one to introduce her, Martha."

Martha rolled her eyes, waving her arm before herself, giving him the floor. "By all means, go ahead."

Clearing his throat again, he turned to the group. "May I introduce you to one of the best batsmen this side of the Channel? Lord Morton, this is Lady Ophelia. Her uncle is the Earl of Burwick, she's been staying for the Season."

"Miss." She corrected quietly, smiling at the gentleman, not more than a few years older than she was. "It's a pleasure."

Bertie led her around the room, introducing her to an innumerable amount of lords and ladies, most of which she had already forgot the names of. By the time they had made their way back to Martha's group, she realized that there was one person she had yet to see this afternoon. For a moment, she was worried if she would have to spend the week-end in a house full of strangers all by herself. Before she had the chance to even ask Bertie, he gave her a knowing look, his lips curving slightly.

"He'll be here this afternoon." He said quietly, keeping his tone from sounding obvious. "He had some business in the village to attend to. Don't worry."

"Thank you." She smiled, relieved.

He nodded without saying another word and carried on with the rest of the group.

"So as I was saying…" Margot, Bertie's sweetheart whom she had seen the other night, continued on with her story about the time she had embarrassed herself in front of the Prince of Wales by spilling red wine all over herself and the white tablecloth in front of her.

"You know," A voice popped up behind her, startling her. "You're not the first to have an incident with red wine as of late."

Her heart skipped a beat, as she turned to see William standing just behind her, his hair still tousled from the drive to the house. He stood close beside her, her skin hypersensitive to the space between them. His cool, blue eyes turned to meet hers, the blush forming on her cheeks betraying her. She saw the corner of his mouth tug upwards.

"Just a few weeks ago at Ophelia's coming out she managed to spill red wine all over my dinner jacket." He laughed, his hand resting on her back for just a moment before returning to his side. He continued as if nothing has happened. "It was quite the mess."

"To be fair, it was you who snuck up behind me. You nearly gave me a fright, I'm not surprised I spilt my drink on you." She huffed sarcastically. "I had only wanted to set it down. You just had to stand in my way."

"I know you want it to be my fault, but it's not going to work." He smirked.

"I'll at least try." She smiled.

"You know, now that I think of it, I've had an ordeal involving red wine as of late, too…" Another man in the group, whose name had already vanished from her memory, began recounting another red wine debacle. Unfortunately, her focus on the conversation dwindled quickly as William's hand returned to it's spot on her back. Her breath caught as he shifted, moving ever so slightly closer to her. She couldn't stop herself from imagining his hand moving lower and lower before settling on her bottom, perhaps making it's way in-between her thighs, his fingertips exploring every inch of flesh she could make bare to him.

Before she could drift any further into her fantasy, she noticed Martha, standing on the opposite end of the group, equally distracted from the current conversation. Her eyes swiveled between her and Willam, scrutinizing. Before their eyes could meet she returned her glance to the speaker, trying her best to focus on the conversation. She shifted slightly, away from William's touch, leaving a cool absence on her back. She felt Martha's eyes still on her as if she were a bug under a microscope, guilt creeping up her spine.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment…" William's voice trailed off as he broke away from the group, not waiting for an answer. She glanced at him slightly as he left, but tried to seem indifferent.

She fiddled with the locket at the base of her throat as the conversation continued around her. She watched as William made his way around the other side of the room, socializing with the guests, being irresistibly suave. An absolute charmer. As the conversation shifted to a new topic, she finally stole a glance at Martha. Her heart leapt into her throat as she was met with eyes staring right back at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave her a coy smile.

"Pardon me." Martha broke away from the group just as William had, and made her way to the opposite side of the room.

Ophelia's heart finally stopped it's racing. She glanced over to where William had been, but he was gone. Her heart sunk slightly with disappointment. She flipped what had just happened over in her mind, trying to make sense of his feelings. She knew better than to overthink the situation, but everything he did seemed to confuse her. Their reunion was far from what they pictured without so much as a real hello. And while he touched her in front of everyone, they were the only two who would be aware. In some ways she thought he was still interested in being with her, but how public he intended to be worried her. She originally had no qualms with being his bit on the side, and now suddenly she very much wanted to be with him on a real level. She knew she was treading on fragile ground, but she wasn't sure if she was still afraid to risk it anymore.

She remembered the girl from the previous Season, who Addie warned her about. While she didn't say much, she did say that William managed to ruin her entire year, and she had yet to see her face this year's either. She knew that she was getting in over her head, she could feel herself slipping into something that might be much bigger than what she knew how to manage. But as contrived as it sounded, her heart ached for him. She knew better than to dance with the devil, but in this moment the music sounded too good to ignore.


	22. Chapter 22

She turned another hallway, feeling even more turned around than before. She had left to find a bathroom and the long, winding hallways had become confusing. A footman had directed her the right way, but the directions might as well had fallen on deaf ears. She turned another hallway, trying to retrace her steps, but stopped in her tracks when she spotted William and Martha at the opposite end, bickering quietly. While she couldn't hear what the argument was about, she had a fairly good understanding of what was going on. She backed away just as Martha snapped something at William, but unfortunately she was far from quiet enough to sneak away unnoticed.

"Oh, I'm….sorry." She muttered just as the two of them turned to look at her. Martha's mouth opened as if to say something, but before either could do anything she picked up her skirt and turned back down the hallway, muttering, "Excuse me…"

She slipped through the nearest door she could find, taking a deep breath, her cheeks hot. To her surprise, she was met with a sink and toilet. A stunned laugh bubbled out of her mouth as she placed her hands on her forehead. The weight of the situation sank heavily on her as she turned to stare at herself in the mirror. If Martha had figured it all out, then there was no doubt that Addie would find out, likely before she even had the chance to go home. If she thought she was already in trouble with her uncle, Addie would be a _whole other story._ She swallowed nervously, and turned on the faucet. She splashed her face gently with water, trying to cool the heat in her cheeks, careful not to splash her hair. She knew Addie was going to know eventually, but if the news didn't come from her own mouth? That would be the real crime.

She looked at herself in the miser, soothing her car, her flustered cheeks slowly turning their delicate pink rather than red. She'd have to write to Addie at once. It would have been better to speak the truth herself, but with Martha's knowing, there was no stopping it now. With one final glance in the mirror, she opened the door and stepped back into the hallway, hoping the coast was clear.

To her surprise, the coast was _not_ clear, and suddenly hands were on her face and lips crashing onto hers. She retreated slightly, taken aback, and the kiss was broken. William stood over her in the doorway, and hunger in his eyes that made her pulse quicken. She took in all of him, finally able to get a real look at him. His eyes seemed to pierce hers, his jawline shifting in anticipation. Unable to wait any longer, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him back into a kiss, desperate to quench a sudden thirst deep within herself. She could look at him all she'd like later. Without any hesitation, they backed into the bathroom once more, the door being kicked shut behind him. His hands clasped her face, firm yet gentle, the feel of desperation in his touch.

This was the welcome she had waited for. Everything about this moment was as perfect as she could've imagined. Her hands unclenched his lapels to clasp his face, just as he held hers. While there was a hungry desperation in his kiss, his lips were still tender on hers, and the passion of the moment was palpable between them. She stroked his face, his neck, his hair. She wanted to touch every inch of him, as if he'd vanish any moment from under her. She finally broke away, her chest rising quickly as she regained her breath. He planted a handful of small kisses on her lips in-between her breaths as he pressed their foreheads together.

"Oh, William…" She sighed, stroking his cheeks, the stubble there prickling her fingers. "How badly I've wanted to touch you…"

"Now you'll have the entire week-end with myself at your disposal." He laughed, twirling a stand of her hair in his fingers. "Whatever will we do?"

Without an answer she returned her lips to his, pressing her body against his. She draped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She was quick to deepen the kiss, almost forceful in the way she teased his lip with her tongue. It was her turn to take control. She ached for the relief she knew he knew how to provide. Any of her worries from earlier completely vanished as she tried her best to tangle herself around him like a vine searching for the sun.

"My, my…" He let out a hoarse chuckle, pulling his face away from hers. His hands trailed down her back, winding around her waist. "What a greedy little thing you are."

"Please…" She mewed softly, tightening her arms around the back of his neck, pressing her breast against his chest. Heat flooded her body as she vied for his touch once more.

"I think we should get back…" He chuckled, his hands making their way further down her back, teasing. "I think it'd be awfully suspicious being gone this long…"

"William." She pouted, looking up at him through her lashes. "Please."

"Tonight," he breathed, his lips now trailing along her neck. "I'm only just down the hall. I'll know which room is yours."

She shivered at the thought, a blush spending across her body. Without saying another word, he planted one last dizzying kiss on her lips and then pried himself out of her grasp.

"Really, we must get back." He stoked her hair. "Can't be too suspicious or we'll have more than just Martha on our tails."

She pouted but sighed. "I suppose you're right. One more kiss before we go?"

"One more couldn't hurt." He laughed, shrugging. She tilted her lips up to meet his, standing on her toes. He leaned in to meet her, pressing his lips against her forehead. She made a small sound of surprise as he stepped back. He gave her a sly smile. "Wait a few moments before following me."

And then he was gone, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

She turned to look at herself in the mirror, even more disheveled than before. Her cheeks were a questionable shade of pink and a smirk was stuck on her lips. She quickly smoothed her hair and counted to thirty, waiting until she couldn't hear William's footsteps any longer. Poking her head into the hall, she checked if the coast was clear. After a moment, she finally stepped out, making her way back to the drawing room with a smile on her face and a secret on her lips.


	23. Chapter 23

William sat across the table, leaning in close to another girl, stroked his jaw softly with amusement. The girl laughed just a bit too loud and leaned in a bit too close, making her teeth grind. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, watching as he entertained this girl, barely listening to her own converser. Her heart sank slightly as the girl brushed a blonde lock behind her ear, revealing her pale neck. She was clearly flirting, and William didn't seem terribly apposed to it either. She tried her best not to be jealous, but the girl was beautiful. She couldn't blame him for being drawn in. But that made her feel even worse.

With a forced smile she returned to the conversation at hand, shooting occasional glances over to William. She put on a brave face, feigning as much interest in pheasant hunting as she could possibly muster. She returned her attention to the gentleman sitting beside her, trying to focus on what was happening. He was handsome, and while he _was_ very pleasant, he was a bit of a bore. She glanced at the girl once more before coming to a conclusion. Even being a bore, her dinner mate would do quite nicely in this little game she was devising.

She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs quite provocatively, fluttering her eyelashes slightly every time he would pause to gauge her reaction. She noticed the man becoming more and more flustered as she continued. She leaned in closer, raising her hand to her locket, her fingers trailing her collarbones lightly as she fiddled with the necklace. The man seemed to become more and more confident in the conversation as she pushed further.

An awkward chuckle fell from his lips as he made a joke that she barely registered. Without hesitation, she let out a melodic laugh, touching the man's arm gently. It was, admittedly, a humorous joke, but she did her best to make it sound like the best joke she ever heard. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced over to William, just as his eyes flicked over to hers. She gave a coy smile, biting her lip playfully, before returning to the gentleman's attention. She knew that the game was really being played now. She could practically see William's jaw shifting in frustration without even needing to look at him.

Their little game carried on well into the evening.

She leaned against the arm of a sofa, smiling through her lashes over a glass of champagne. The gentleman from dinner had still kept the conversation going since dinner, though he seemed to have loosened up quite a bit by now, likely due to the numerous glasses of brandy he had enjoyed through the evening.

She sauntered across the room, sending a pleasant smile to one of the ladies she recognized in a separate group. She passed by William, who was still talking up the girl from earlier. She trailed her fingers over his hand, which rest on the back of a chair, as slyly as she could as she passed by. She introduced herself to the girl, complimenting her on her

She eyed William as the girl addressed him with a question. She brushed her gloved fingertips over her collarbone, feigning absentmindedness. While William's face remained focused, his eyes strayed to her for a moment.

"You know…" William's eyes slid over to Ophelia, the gears working behind his cool expression. "I never showed you that first edition of….Hamlet, we'd discussed. Would you like me to show it to you?"

"In the library?" She bit her lip slightly, glancing to the others in the group. They seemed none the wiser. Her eyes returned to his, as if her eyes could pierce him. "Certainly."

"Will you excuse us for a moment?" He grave a polite nod to the group, his voice as cool as a cucumber.

She followed him into the hallway, running to grab his hand just as the door closed behind them. She slipped her fingers through his playfully, pulling away just as fast as she had grabbed his hand. She walked ahead of him, looking over her shoulder at him just as she reached the doorway to the library. There was a new hunger in his eyes, his jaw working as his eyes bore into her. A devilish smirk spread across her face as she pushed through the doors.

They barely made it past the doorframe before is hands were on her. She giggled playfully, turning to plant a kiss on his mouth before breaking from his grasp. She placed herself against a bookshelf, eyeing him playfully. She tutted at his behavior, lowering her eyes playfully.

"Now, that's not very gentlemanly at all. I thought we were going to look at a book?"

William's eyes narrowed, his tongue running across his teeth in a smirk. "I think we both know that' not why we made our escape."

"On the contrary," She smirked, eyeing him. "I'm positively enthralled with Shakespeare. I'd quite like to see this first edition."

"The name suits you, you know. Beautiful, tragic," He paused, his face an expression she couldn't read. "Suicidal."

"Suicidal?" Her eyes narrowed at him. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm not saying anything, I suppose." He looked at her matter-of-factly. "But you aren't afraid of anything. You take risks. You never question consequences. You like to play with fire, and you don't seem to care that you might get burned."

"I'm willful." She raised her chin, looking down her nose at him, hiding the embarrassed blush in her cheeks. "But I do not have a death wish."

He remained silent, but his eyes held a look that frightened her. She suddenly felt very exposed, as if his eyes could uncover whatever they wished, as if they knew every minute detail about her. Perhaps her face betrayed just how frightened she was with the question. She turned away, cheeks flushed, his gaze making her almost claustrophobic.

"Perhaps we should make our way back to the party…" She finally turned to face him again, though her eyes were already fixed to the door.

Surprisingly, he didn't look at her. He reached up, above her head, plucking a book from the shelf she had been leaning against. Saying nothing, he placed the worn copy in her hands.

"Oh." She said softly, flipping the book over, examining it. She ran her fingers over the cover slowly before looking up to meet his eyes.

"I won't break my promises." He said quietly. "I just don't make them often."

He moved closer to her, after a moment, flipping to a page marked with a ribbon. He cleared his throat before quoting the page.

"…when down her weedy trophies and herself fell in the weeping brook-"

She interrupted him, quoting the rest of the scene, watching William as she spoke. She knew it by heart, of course. Her father had been quite obsessive about reading it to her. It _was_ her namesake after all. She quite admired Ophelia. She loved with every ounce of her being. Even though so many decisions were made for her, she was able to make her own choice, in the end. The biggest decision of all.

They both grew quiet as she shut the book. William eyed her for a moment before handing her the book.

"It's yours."

She stepped back slightly, surprised. "Oh no, I couldn't. It's much too valuable."

He shrugged, gesturing to the rest of the library. "I have plenty of books. Besides, I never was much of a fan of Shakespeare."


	24. Chapter 24

She stared at the wall, mind turning, William's warm breath on her neck. They laid tangled in the sheets together, skin on skin, shrouded in darkness. He snored softly, his arm tucked beneath her head, other wrapped around her tightly. Any other time, she'd be buzzing with joy. But William's comment from earlier that evening gnawed at the back of her mind.

Suicidal? She asked herself. A frown settled on her lips as she looked back at William. She wondered if he saw something in her that she didn't? She had a tendency to be emotional, but she always attributed such to her father. She was as hotheaded as she was "moody." She often fell into moods, she supposed. She would become depressed for weeks and months at a time, that much was true. But she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to die, even if she pondered the idea often enough.

She sighed softly, frustrated. William's grip tightened on her, pulling her nearer to him. Perhaps he only thought her to be reckless, not necessarily suicidal. She _was_ lying in bed with him, surrounded by a house full of influential strangers. She was just a sill girl who took risks. She didn't necessarily like playing by the rules, and didn't really care about what the consequences were. If anything, she decided, she might be a bit fatalistic. Not suicidal. Right?

"You're worrying about something." William shifted behind her, pressing his face into her hair. His spoke sleepily, voice now muffled. "I can tell."

"I'm not worrying," She lied, finally relaxing against the pillow. "I'm just thinking."

"About worrisome things, I reckon."

"Go back to sleep." She ignored his statement and finally nuzzled against him.

"I'll have to wake up in a few hours anyway." He grumbled. "I'll have to sneak off before the sun comes up."

"What'll happen if you get caught?" Her cheeks suddenly turned red with embarrassment.

"Not much, I assume. Most everyone here is in someone else's bedroom." He chuckled mischeviously. His fingers ran along her hips. "I'm sure I won't be the only one sneaking down the hall."

"What? Really?" She looked back at him as much as she could manage.

"Mhmm." His voice grew softer, he was falling back asleep already. But he continued. "Why else would everyone's names be on the doors?"

"Oh." She said softly, surprised. "That's what those are for?"

"Well, sort of. Not officially." He shifted again, trying to keep himself awake. "They're _technically_ there just to assign rooms. But that's not why most people bother. Haven't you ever been to a Saturday-to-Monday?"

"Not really." She flushed. "I don't get out much, I suppose."

"Hmm." William's face was nuzzled into her shoulder. He was already drifting off again.

"Wait. So do you know _who_ is sneaking off with each other?"

"So inquisitive." He yawned, resting his head on her shoulder. He gave sleepy chuckle. "And, of course. I know everything."

"Everything?"

"Of course."

"Is Martha here _with_ someone?"

"I can't say I'm at liberty to tell you." He snickered, playfully. "But I can tell you that my brother and his current sweetheart are staying at opposite ends of the house this week-end."

"Why, I think that's darling." She gushed. Bertie was sweet, and she thought this fact made him even more charming.

"Darling?" He chuckled. "If that's so terribly darling to you, why did you let me crawl into your bed this evening?"

"Just because I don't follow the same lifestyle as him doesn't mean I cant appreciate it. I think it's sweet. But I don't know how sweet _I_ am." She smirked cheekily.

"Please." He laughed. "You wouldn't hurt a fly, sweetheart."

"Oh?" She turned, raising an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"You're about as sweet as one can get. I think it's charming." He smirked. "Or should I say it's darling?"

"Charming?" She sat up. "Really?"

"I'm just saying," He laughed at the frustration on her face. "You're young and excited. But you aren't nearly as edgy as you think."

"No?" She pouted as he shook his head at her. "What a shame… I thought I was doing so well."

Just as he assumed she accepted defeat, she lowered her face to his, her hair hanging around his face. She could see his confusion form as she gave him angelic smile. Without hesitation, she straddled him, pulling him up towards her in a passionate kiss. After a moment she broke away. She could see the intrigue on his face. He wanted to see what she would do next, and if that was the case, she'd give it all she could.

Not breaking eye contact, she moved downwards, William eyeing her curiously. She gave him mischievous look, her hands sliding down his stomach. Even though she tried to look confident, her heart still fluttered a bit in her chest. Even though though she wasn't prudish by any means, she had never been with a man the same way she had been with William, and the sight of his naked body made her blush. This was the first time, after all, she was able to take him in completely, without being fully distracted by the heat of the moment. He took control most of the time, she only followed. But this time, she was playing the boss. It made her heart leap, even just a bit.

Slowly, her hands on were replaced by her lips. She kissed the trail of hair that travelled down his stomach. She kissed his hipbones, she kissed his stomach. She kissed every inch of skin she could find, knowing that she was driving him wild. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her cheeks warm, but not with embarrassment. William watched her curiously, his eyes burning. She convinced herself it might have been the light, but she thought she even saw a flush on his cheeks. She bit her lip playfully, trying to give him the same smoldering look he so often gave her. He was completely under her spell.

With a devilish grin, she pulled away from him, hopping off the bed. William's head rose in surprise.

"Not edgy enough, eh?" She grabbed a robe from the bedpost. William eyed her. She smirked. "I suppose I should just go then, hm?"

She made a break for the door, William clamoring off the bed, right at her heels.

"Come back here, you little devil." He was surprisingly quick. His arms wrapped around her waist, turning her, pinning her hips against his. She couldn't help but squeal in surprise. The robe fluttered to the floor as his hand grabbed her wrists, the other covering her mouth. He pinned her against the door, holding her wrists above her head, shushing her. She couldn't help but giggle. "Where you think you're going?"

"I just thought I'd sleep in your bed." She squirmed under his hands. "Since you seem so preoccupied with being in mine."

"Not so fast." He smirked. She could see his teeth glinting in the low light.

"Oh really?" She wriggled her way out of his grasp, snatching the robe from the floor. "I don't think so."

Only halfway into her robe, she yanked open the bedroom door, a cool breeze sweeping into the room. William's eyebrow shot up, a intrigued smile twitching on his lips.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh?" She backed into the hallway, slipping her other arm into the robe, leaving it hanging open, untied. The hall was silent, save for a loud snorer at the end of the hall.

"Ophelia." His voice was a mixture of stern amusement.

She gave him a cheeky look before darting down the hallway, past the row of closed doors. Her feet fell silent on the carpeted floors, her robe flowing out behind her.

"Ophelia!" William hissed, standing just outside her door still. He had managed to yank on his trousers, still unbuttoned. "That isn't even the right way to my room."

"Oh, I know." She pulled her robe closed, tying the sash in a loose bow. "You'll have to catch me."

"Ophelia." He took a step towards her.

"Nope." She giggled, her heart still pounding in her ears. Without a second glance, she jetted down the hall, William's footsteps gaining quickly on her. She turned quickly as the hallway opened up into the gallery above the foyer. She shot a look back at William, just as she made it to the stairs. Before she scrambled down the stairs, she paused. She eyed the bannister, thick and glossy. She hadn't done this since she knocked out her front teeth as a young girl. She glanced back at William, scrambling around the corner. Without a second thought, she flung her leg over the side, making sure that the robe was slippery enough.

"Ophelia!"

She laughed and pushed off, sliding quickly down the bannister, surprised at just how slippery it was. She tried to grip her thighs once she slid towards the bottom. Unable to stop in time, she slipped off the bannister, tumbling to the ground. Though she hit her elbow rather hard in the fall, she couldn't help but laugh. She didn't have long to laugh though, as William made his way down the last few steps.

She scrambled up, just barely slipping out of his grasp. She made a mad dash for the heavy library doors. Just as she pushed her way in, William's arms wrapped around her waist and they tumbled to the ground together.

"Hey!" She giggled.

"My god, Ophelia." He gave her an exasperated look.

"Still not edgy enough?" She planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"Color me surprised."


	25. Chapter 25

She walked to the end of the room as William flicked on a lamp. She tightened her robe around her, running her fingers along the sofas and chairs.

"You don't think we should go back to bed?" William leaned against a desk, finally buttoning his trousers, watching her.

"Just a little longer." She peeked at him over her shoulder. "I'm too awake now."

"Well maybe if you didn't make me chase you all over the house and fall down a staircase, you'd be a bit more sleepy." He rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I didn't fall down the stairs. I fell off a bannister. I was at the bottom anyway."

She eyed the portrait at the end of the room, hanging over the mantle, just like the one in the library in William's London house. While it wasn't the same portrait, it looked like it was done not too long after the the other. A handsome man, William's late father, stood beside an equally lovely woman, quite obviously his mother. They stood regally, their heads high and shoulders back, but they both looked incredibly warm. Even though it was only a painting, there was a twinkle in her father's eyes, and a smile on his mother's lips.

In front of them were the two boys, standing side-by-side. William standing tall and lanky, with the same coy, mischievous grin on his face. His hand rested on the shoulder of his younger brother, who she assumed must have been Bertie. His lip stuck out in a pout, and he looked like he might even cry. Beside them sat a little girl in a plush-looking chair, no longer an ambiguous infant like in the pervious portrait, but now dressed in a white frock, a blue ribbon tied in her dark curls.

Finally her eyes focused on the youngest figure in the portrait. Held in his mother's arms, was the baby from the other portrait, now with chubby, toddler cheeks and a mop of curly hair. He wore a tiny sailor outfit, which was silly and endearing all at the same time. She paused for a moment, realizing what seemed so wrong before. She wasn't sure if she should say anything. Plenty of families lost children. Except she wasn't sure if William _had_ lost a sibling at all. She turned to look at him, not noticing he had joined her. His eyes still studying the portrait.

"I didn't know you had another younger brother."

"Younger?" He looked at her, confusion clouding his face.

"The baby in your mother's arms." She looked back at the portrait, wondering if perhaps it was a girl. But everything she saw seemed to point to it being a boy. She looked at him, confused.

"Bertie is my only younger brother." His voice trailed as he began to understand.

"Oh…" She gestured to the oldest boy in the portrait, who still looked remarkably like him. "That's not you?"

He shook his head.

"Why, you look just like him!"

"That's what they tell me." His voice grew quieter. There was something in his voice that surprised her. She looked at him, but he turned to the painting. There was a bitterness in his voice, and a sadness that she had never heard come from him. Her stomach sank once she realized what he meant.

"What happened to him?" She spoke softly, her eyes softening.

"He died in a motor accident a week before I turned sixteen. He was three years older than I was." William stayed silent for a moment before shrugging, as if nothing had just happened. His voice was nonchalant, though he didn't meet her eyes. "I suppose they say 'heir and a spare' for a reason."

"William…" She frowned, uncertain and uncomfortable. She wasn't used to this kind of talk coming from him, and wasn't sure how to make it any better, either.

"It was just difficult for us to take another hit like that. My father died only six months before and…" He shook his head, turning to look at her. "Sorry. We can go to bed now, if you want. I didn't mean to get so grim."

Instead of leaving, she sat down on the sofa just behind them. She wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. "Will you tell me more about them?"

"I hate to be a disappointment, but I don't do the kind of heartfelt 'opening up' you're asking of me." But even so, he joined her, resting his arm behind her. They sat in silence, the only sound being the dim ticking of the grandfather clock at the end of the room. "I'm sorry I turned the mood sour. We don't like to discuss it much. We don't like to discuss much of anything. But the past is the past. I've been over it for some time."

"Don't be sorry, I asked a personal question. You weren't entitled to answer." She glanced at him. If anything, she was the one who should be sorry, and by just gauging his reaction, she wasn't sure he _was_ truly over it. She didn't press further though. This was the most William had ever said about himself. She wasn't going to scare him away so soon.

"My brother was much better suited for the title, really." His voice was a deep grumble. "It was never supposed to be me. Percy was the golden boy, the favorite, the heir. And all the time I spent in his shadow, I had the chance to be me, I suppose. We were both trained, of course. The role still has it's expectations. But he was a natural at it."

"But you've done so well." She said cautiously. "You deserve more credit than you give yourself."

"I've learned the ropes," he scoffed darkly. "I had to."

"I didn't mean to come off…"

"I never wanted this job, Ophelia." His face grew dark, unreadable. "This is not the life I wanted for myself. In less than a year I was left alone to run a family and do my part to uphold the monarchy. That's not task for a sixteen year old. I was merely a child. I never wanted it to be me."

"Maybe, perhaps…fate has something bigger in store." She wasn't sure how to console him. She had known how to comfort her father, but William…his pain was different.

"Fate is a cruel, cruel mistress, Ophelia. A mistress who has taken far too much and given too little." His eyes bore icily into the portrait, into the eyes of his brother, and of his father. "There isn't a happy ending in this story. Just a miserable parade of dinners and galas. Panem et circenses."

Her hand hovered over his shoulder, which was rigid with tension. She wanted to console him, but no words would come. She was afraid to touch him, suddenly. The situation almost felt absurd. Her heart clenched as reality began to trickle in. They barely knew each other, their only real experiences with each other seemingly fueled by lust more than anything else. He was a duke, known for his trysts with parades of girls, and she was no more than a rich, foreign nobody. Sure, she believed she could look past many things, but she wasn't sure he would even want to. Still, would be be here, like this, if there wasn't something else there?

Without question, she rest her hand on his shoulder, warmth radiating through her fingertips. She said nothing, as William's breath seemed to stop. His shoulder pressed into her hand for a moment, relaxing ever so slightly. But just as soon as he had done so, he stood, back turned. She stayed seated, waiting for him, waiting until he was ready. After a long silence, he spoke, his shoulders relaxing once again.

"I'm sorry to have kept you up so late, I didn't mean to…" He cleared his throat. His voice remained cool, though there was almost a hint of embarrassment in it. "May I walk you to your room?"

She didn't respond, but instead stood, a soft smile on her lips. She was afraid to frighten him. She didn't want him to be ashamed for opening up to her. She tucked her arm through his, linking them, and in silence they left the room.

By the time they made it to her room, the silence still hung heavily between them. She could see William's embarrassment in his downcast eyes.

"Goodnight, Ophelia." William's voice seems distant as they finally unlinked their arms. He stood straight, gentlemanly, but his face did not mirror his posture.

"Goodnight, William." She turned to rest her hand on the doorknob, the cool crystal beneath her fingers, but she paused. Her skin tingled as cool air washed over her arms. Turning back to William, she took a step towards him. His brow crinkled. She placed a soft hand on his cheek, stretching to place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth as if, somehow, she could tell him everything in just one movement. She finally stepped back, an unreadable expression on his face.

Her hand trailed down his arm, before she finally pulled away. With a soft, bittersweet smile she closed the bedroom door behind her with a soft click.


	26. Chapter 26

She tucked her fan into her bag before switching the lights and leaving the room. The day was already sweltering, and at this rate the thin gauze of her sleeves might as well have been wool with what little coolness they provided. She pulled the door shut behind her, the hallway only little respite from the heat than her room. Looking up she noticed Bertie and another man she didn't recognize making their way past her. Both were decked out in their cricket uniforms, thin, white linen shirts and pale trousers.

"Good morning, Ophelia." Bertie smiled at her from across the hall. "Sleep well last night?"

"Never better." She smiled. "Are you ready for the match?"

"Just about." He chuckled. "Never mind how bloody hot it'll be."

"That I can agree with." She laughed. "Perhaps today would be better suited for a swim, rather than broiling under the sun."

"You know," They turned the corner, heading down the main stairs. "There's a pond not too far on the estate. A swim might not be too terrible of an idea."

"We'll have to keep that in mind then." She smiled. The men carried on with their conversation and eventually they split, heading out to practice on the lawn while she made her way towards breakfast.

Turning the corner into the dining room, she faltered. William sat at one end of the table, talking to a small group she had met the day before. Though he was still turned to face the others, his eyes rose to meet hers. She could tell he was embarrassed. She had to admit herself, she suddenly felt unsure of where they stood. As if someone had missed a step in the dance they had been constructing since the beginning of summer. She gave him a small smile and made her way to the buffet at the end of the room. She didn't want him to feel badly about opening up in the early hours of the night before. But she also didn't know how to approach him anymore. Were they lovers? Only friends? Were they actually something more like she suddenly so desperately wished? She had spent the night tossing and turning it over and over again in her mind. She felt like they had done everything out of order, suddenly. She let lust and willfulness get in the way of what she really wanted and she suddenly didn't know where she stood.

She suddenly felt very self-conscious as she made her way to the table. The table was composed almost completely of strangers, most of whom already knew each other. William was already joined on both sides, and he was immersed in a raucous conversation with the more populated end of the table. Others were more spread out at the other end of the table. Not only that, but she felt as if all of her late-night escapades were suddenly on full display, as if there was a blinking sign above her head shouting that she had spend the night in the host's bed. Though no one gave her a second glance, she could feel her cheeks beginning to heat. She sat her plate near the opposite end of the table beside a quiet man she had met the night before who was deeply immersed in a newspaper.

She could feel William's eyes on her once more as she sipped her tea in silence. She glanced his way after a moment, but his eyes were no longer on her. Instead they were behind her, towards the door. He gave her a quick look, a mixture of pity and amusement, but before she could even process what he was doing, someone pulled out the chair beside her.

"Good morning, Ophelia."

She felt her blood chill as Martha sat beside her. She suddenly felt completely exposed. Martha would completely unravel her entire little rendezvous if she wasn't careful. Sure, Martha was one of her best friends. But suddenly she was terrified of her. Still she put on a brave face and gave her a smile.

"Good morning, Martha." She sat down her teacup which clattered slightly as she sat it in it's saucer. "Are you excited for the cricket match this afternoon?"

"Very." She spoke blandly. "Sleep well, I gather?"

There was a knowing sound in her voice that made her face go pale. She cleared her throat slightly, trying her best to keep a straight face. She laughed nervously, trying to feign ignorance. "Like the dead…and you?"

"I slept fine." She sipped her tea, giving her a cool, calculated look. "I did have some _noisy_ neighbors just down the hall from me."

She couldn't help but blush now, her cheeks turning a bright shade of tomato red. She glanced at William who was watching them both cautiously, though his eyes were bright with amusement. Finally, she sighed. She was defeated, there was no use denying what was happening at this point. She lowered her voice to a whisper, too afraid to look at her friend. "Martha…"

The girl watched her, waiting.

"I know you're going to give me a lecture." She sighed. "Just at least let me tell Addie first…"

"Wait." This caught Martha off guard. "Addie _doesn't know?"_

If she hadn't already dug her own grave before, she definitely did now.

"She has an idea…to some extent." She picked at the tablecloth nervously. "She doesn't approve of our relationship. And she doesn't know I'm here. I was going to tell her. It's just that Arthur had come to dinner and I never got the chance to speak with her after. We were going to speak after dinner, but with all of the celebration…"

"Ophelia, do you actually realize just how angry she's going to be?"

"I know, I know." She rubbed her forehead. "Just please, let me enjoy what time I have left before all hell breaks loose. I'll tell you everything, but you have to give me the chance to tell Addie myself."

"Alright, alright." Martha huffed. "But you'll have to tell me everything, promise?"

"Okay, I promise." She glanced down the table at William, who was now standing, readying to corral everyone outside. She turned back to Martha once more, "I'll tell you everything once we make it to the match, alright?"

* * *

"Well it's not like you and Addie didn't fling us together in the beginning. I don't think it's fair that she'd be upset with me after that." She laid her fan down on the blanket, beside her, huffing.

"No." Martha agreed, sighing. "Still, you mustn't leave her in the dark. She wont like that you're seeing him, but she'll like even less that you've been lying to her."

"You're right." She sighed. "I'm not trying to lie to her, really, I'm not. She's so like my uncle though."

"That she is." Martha laughed. They both grew quiet after that, growing transfixed on the game.

She was quite surprised that she could, at least somewhat, follow what was happening. She really hadn't been able to follow the book, and she was plenty grateful that Bertie gave her a free pass when it came to keeping score. She had given him the excuse that she had left her glasses at home and couldn't see what was going on. While that wasn't totally a lie, she still had no problem watching the game.

Once she caught sight of William, though, all attention directed towards the game vanished. She felt herself turn pink as she watched him make his way across the grass. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and even though she wasn't nearby, she could see the muscles in his arm flexing as he gripped the ball. His brow was low, his lips curling slightly into a merciless smirk. Her breath caught slightly when he made a running start to throw the ball. He let out a grunt as the ball left his fingers, and she was instantly reminded of the night before, making her giggle slightly.

She could feel Martha watching her. She quickly resorted to fanning herself, hoping to make a diversion, but she was already caught red-handed.

"So." Martha reclined onto an elbow, picking at a bowl of berries that sat between them. "You really like him, don't you?"

"I do." Ophelia responded softly. It was the first time she had admitted it aloud. She looked down, a soft smile spreading across her lips. "Very much."

Martha watched her for a moment, a pitying smile on her face.

"Please." Ophelia continued, touching Martha's hand gently. "I don't need another lecture. I know it's risky business, this stuff. But…I know if I just try…"

"He is a very troubled man, Ophelia." Martha spoke quietly. She wasn't chastising her. "I know you know it wont be easy. I won't lecture you because I know you understand. He needs someone gentle, someone kind. I've known him my whole life, Ophelia. I think you can make him happy. But… I don't want you to break your heart trying to fix someone who can't be fixed."

"Last night….I don't know if I should tell you." She watched the pennants above their head wave in the breeze. She turned to look at Martha, shaking her head. "But you are his friend just as you are mine. When we were together last night, we were in the library…What happened to his brother?"

"Ah. So Percy has made his appearance. William usually wont speak of him. I'm quite surprised." Martha smiled sadly. "Percy was quite the charmer. And terribly handsome. Not unlike William now, I suppose."

"So I've heard."

"Percy was a good brother. They were inseparable before the accident. William truly admired him. He's grown to resent him now, but, before everything changed they were the best of friends." Martha sighed. "I know William blames himself for the accident. But Percy liked his cars. An expensive hobby, to say the least, but it clearly was what made him happy. I guess it's wasn't a surprise that something was going to happen. William didn't really see it that way."

"He blames himself?" She spoke softly, her heart dropping further into her chest. She looked across the field at William who was horsing around with one of the men he had spent breakfast with, both of them laughing boisterously, completely oblivious to the discussion only a couple of yards away. "Why? Wasn't it an accident?"

"It was. But William still blames himself. They had gotten into a fight that morning. Something silly, I'm sure. I doubt more than their typical bickering, like brothers do. I'm sure you know by now that William has a temper; Percy was just as hotheaded. Perhaps a bit more collected, but they could get each other furious if they tried. But that afternoon, Percy went out for a drive, just to cool his head. We we're all going to have dinner tonight. He and my brother were going to practice for the upcoming match. Except Percy didn't come home."

She could hear Martha getting choked up a bit and her heart sank deeper.

"Martha…"

"No, it's alright. We've all laid that time to rest." She could see Martha's eyes shift to William. "Percy's car was found wrapped around a tree. I've never seen anything like it. There was a drop off and a ravine, just off the side of the road. Percy was found in the rocks down there."

They both grew silent. She could feel the tears welling in her own eyes, though she wasn't sure if they were hers to shed. Even though she didn't know Percy, the pain that they all must have gone through made her was to sob. She grabbed Martha's hand, squeezing it gently. She had known their families were close, but she didn't realize. She starred out into the field, her heart aching. William and the other carried on, oblivious to what had just transpired.

"Martha." She said quietly. "How do I help him?"

"I wish I knew how to answer that."


	27. Chapter 27

"Enjoying the picnic?"

Her breath caught in her throat as William jogged over to her. She and Martha had sat in silence for a long time and she was more than surprised to suddenly see William with wind-tousled hair and a smile on his face, especially after their conversation. She wasn't sure if her outlook had changed on him, but her heart still ached.

"Did you win?" She looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun, hoping it would hide her wet eyes, full of tears that didn't quite fall earlier.

"Well considering that was only one of the games in our tournament," He laughed. "I'd venture to say no."

"I suppose all that reading didn't help me much then." She sighed dramatically then smiled.

"I don't think so, no." He laughed, which made her stomach tighten after what Martha had told her. His eyes moved to Martha, his demeanor shifting slightly, apprehensive but still assured. "Do you mind if I steal her away from you?"

"Go on ahead." Martha gave an approving smile and gave them a wave of her hand. "I don't mind watching the match on my own for a while."

William offered out a hand and she gladly accepted it, pulling herself up from the picnic blanket. To her surprise, he didn't let go once she was on her feet. Blushing, she broke away, instead tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. The bare skin of their arms touching was enough to give her goosebumps, despite the sweltering heat. He didn't seem too bothered, leading her away from the blanket. She could feel Martha's eyes on her back as they walked away.

"You really don't mind walking with me, do you? I didn't really mean to steal you away like this."

"I don't mind at all." And she wasn't lying. Once they were just a little further way from the group, she glanced at him. "Does this mean you aren't angry with me?"

"Angry?" He looked appalled, stoping to turn to her. "At you?"

"I just thought, since this morning you didn't really say anything..."

"I couldn't possibly be mad at you. What would it even be for?" He shook his head, "I thought I had scared you off after what happened last night."

"Scared me off?" Her cheeks turned red, giggling. "After what we _did_ last night?"

His cheeks turned pink as well, flustering him. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I know that's not what you meant. But as far as I'm concerned, that's all that mattered." She finally calmed her giggles before looking at him with a more serious expression. "William, I don't want you to ashamed for telling me about the things that bother you. Or anyone for that matter."

"Now it's my turn to ask for you not to give me a lecture."

"I'm not going to lecture you, William." She grabbed his had, holding it in hers. She squeezed it gently, when she was worried he might pull away. "I just don't want you to feel obligated to close yourself off."

William pulled his hand from hers after a moment, and she was worried she had gone too far. This entire weekend, she felt as if she had teetered on the edge, and this time she had truly done it. William walked on for a moment, but stopped. After a long, excruciating moment, he turned to look back at her, expectant. She looked at him, scanning his face for just a moment. Holding her hat onto her head, she jogged to catch up with him, quickly realizing she was supposed to follow.

He waited for her hand to be slipped into the crook of his arm before they continued again. While he wasn't angry, his demeanor did become more stoic. "I want you to know-… I don't like feeling the way I did last night. And I don't think it very fair that I made you listen to that."

"Why are you apologizing?" She rubbed his arm gently as they walked, her fingers running over the bare skin beneath his rolled sleeves. "No one likes feeling upset, but I'm not bothered you told me. I'm actually quite glad someone has finally been honest with me for once."

"What do you mean by that?" He glanced down at her.

"Oh, you know. No one is very honest with me. I couldn't possibly tell you why. In some ways, I think they're too worried about feeling guilty themselves." She trailed for a moment. As much as she wanted to clear her chest, she'd much rather William do it first. Still, she continued. "My father won't tell me how he feels, even though I know he struggles. Addie too. She keeps it tucked away until it's bound to come all out. I'm always getting nitpicked about what I do but she always plays the hypocrite…I'm sure this isn't making much sense to you…"

"No, go on."

"I think my father feels guilty about my mother's death. Or perhaps he's worried _I'll_ feel guilty." She sighed. "But I didn't know my mother at all. She died in childbirth. My father doesn't like to speak about her, he's still so sensitive on the subject. And he's so lonely because of how he feels about his… I don't know why I'm bothering telling you. It doesn't really matter. I just feel like everyone lies to me to spare my feelings."

"Well, then." He spoke softly. Taking a breath, he continued. "Shall we make a deal if it, then?"

"A deal? What are you proposing?"

"No more secrets. I'll be open about how I'm feeling, if you agree to be open about what you're thinking."

"I don't see what you'll be getting from this. We hardly know each other. I wouldn't call myself a bore, but I don't think my thoughts are very valuable to you."

"That's precisely my reasoning. I'd like to get to know you." He smirked, elbowing her playfully.

"Quit it!" She giggled, swatting his arm before wrapping her arm around his, slipping her fingers into his hand. They passed by a couple lounging on a blanket, sharing a large slice of watermelon. Another couple passed, seemingly coming from the bushes, cheeks red and clothes slightly disheveled. She paused to look around, realizing nearly everyone around them were paired off. A man had even joined Martha on the blanket in the spot she had just been sitting, seeming to be the mysterious suitor William had refused to confirm earlier. She turned to look back at William, a strange feeling rising in her chest. "William?"

"Hm?" He looked down at her, his lips still in a mischievous smirk.

"Why am I here?"

He looked puzzled, his smirk becoming concerned. "I invited you…we have this match every year."

"No, no, I know that, but since we promised to be honest with each other…" She shifted uncomfortably, as if the heat from the sun had grown to be too much suddenly. "Why did you invite me?"

He stared at her for a long moment, clearly unsure how to approach her question. "I wanted to get to know you, Ophelia. I don't understand…What's bothering you?"

"Addie told me that first night I met you that I needed to be careful…" She couldn't meet his eyes, instead she focused on the small birthmarks dotting his arm. She could feel his eyes fixed on her. With a shaking breath, she continued. "She told me about all the other girls… William, as much as I like you, I don't know what you want me to be. I want to know the real reason why I'm here."

"Ophelia... Ever since we met I haven't thought of anything else but you." He looked away, shoulders slumping slightly. "Look, I know the way people talk about me. And I know the things I've done in the past aren't necessarily the best."

Their eyes met suddenly, his piercing and pale, hidden under deep furrowed brows. The sharpness of his gaze snatching her breath.

"But if there's one thing I want you to know, it's that I didn't ask you here to take advantage of you." He looked away, leaving her breathless. "But I also can't make you any promises, Ophelia. I'm still just a man, and I still don't know what I want. But I can assure you that I did not invite you here under any false pretenses."

"William, I'm not asking you to make any promises." She touched his arm gently, the pale skin of her hand milky against the warm golden tone of his skin. She glanced up at him. "I don't expect you to make anything of this yet. We're still such strangers to each other. I know that."

"I want you to know something, before we do or say anything else." He looked at her once again, his expression soft. He took a breath, laughing at his own nerves. "I don't know how to do these things, but I know I want to give this real chance. We barely know one another and you're constantly on my mind. I don't want to make you unhappy. It'll take time. I don't always say or do the right thing, but-"

"Oi, William!" Both of their heads turned, and though the owner of the voice couldn't be seen, they knew they needed to get back. Their walk hand continued into a small hedge garden, hidden from sight, the voice ringing out from the other side of the bushes. "Help me wrangle the team! We're up for a rematch!"

They began to laugh, the tension between them suddenly shattered. She took a step back, suddenly aware of how close they had become. Before she could move, William caught her arm, keeping her in place. Without breaking eye contact, he called out to the voice on the other side of the hedge.

"I'll be there in just a just a tick!" His lips crept upwards as he studied her face.

"Good luck out there." She mirrored his smirk, running her hand over his forearm. "Make me proud?"

"Of course, as long as you're my good-luck charm." He leaned in close, their lips barely touching, buzzing as he spoke. "I'll see you later."

He pulled her into a quick kiss, that grew quickly into a long kiss. With a giggle, she pulled away, her heart fluttering in her chest. "As long as you bathe first."


	28. Chapter 28

"He's just a family friend, I promise." Martha laughed, tossing herself back onto the bed.

"Well you two seemed awfully _friendly."_ Ophelia giggled, stepping out from behind the folding screen to examine herself in the mirror. "You promise it's not too much?"

"The entire point of this party is to be _too much._ You look stunning."

Ophelia glanced back at her, smiling shyly. She returned her gaze to the mirror, turning slightly to examine the dress. Her heart felt stuck in her throat, surprised to see herself look like _this_. It was a gauzy, delicate thing, made of blue and silver threads that flickered in the changing light. She caught a glimpse of her face, heart racing, almost embarrassed by what she saw. She was more than thankful that Eva had packed it, not only did she feel beautiful, but the slippery fabric kept a cool breeze on her skin, despite the heat. The dress was even intended to be worn without a corset, instead wearing little more than her combinations underneath. She could care less, really, only thankful to be saved from the sweltering heat that was slowly being leeched away as the sun disappeared.

With a final glance she tucked a silver and crystal comb in her hair before turning to Martha. She could already feel the music vibrating beneath her feet.

"Shall we?"

Martha joined her as they made their way down the hall, the music growing louder and louder as they made it towards the grand staircase. Arm in arm, they descended the stairs, both giving flirtatious smiles to those milling in the room. While music poured in from the open doors to outside, they made their way to the dining room, were a large buffet of food was laid out. William explained that he simply wanted everyone to do what they felt like, with food, music, and champagne aplenty. Some guests sat at the table, others mingling around the room, plates of finger-food in hand. After making up their own plates, they sat together at the table, the opposite end being occupied by a loud, seemingly already drunk, man she recognized loosely as a member of Parliament.

"So, I meant to ask you," Martha leaned towards her, wagging her eyebrows playfully. "I noticed a pair of cufflinks on your nightstand that are, ahem, in the shape of the Highcaster coat of arms. any idea who they might belong to?"

"Martha!" She smacked her arm playfully, mouth opening in surprise. "Who do you think you are, snooping around in my drawers?"

"Trust me, I'm not the only one snooping in your drawers this evening." Martha broke into a fit of giggles.

"Quit it!" She held her a hand to her mouth as she burst into giggles herself. "Besides, who knows whose cufflinks belong to. Maybe they were just left here by whoever stayed in my room before me."

"Mhmm." Martha rolled her eyes. "Deny all you want, kid."

"Lady Ophelia! Lady Martha!"

She turned to see Bertie making his way to them, towing along a cute girl she recognized as Lady Margot.

"Bertie!" She stood, greeting him with a kiss on each cheek before turning to the girl. "And Lady Margot, you look lovely tonight."

"Lady Ophelia," The girl held out her hand, smiling shyly. Her cheeks were round and rosy, framed by mousy brown locks. She was surprised at how young she looked, especially after not paying much attention the other day. "You'll have to tell me your designer, that gown is beautiful."

"Oh, thank you!" Ophelia blushed. She glanced at the other ladies in the room, all dressed in their best evening gowns. " I was worried I'd be overdressed but…"

"You look lovely." Bertie agreed, smiling. "Have you seen my brother, yet?"

She shook her head. "To be completely honest, we made a beeline for the food. I assume he's already outside."

"You're probably right. So," He looked at Margot before looking back to them. "Care if we join you?"

"Please!" Martha smiled, shifting their plates to make more room at the table. They crowded together at the end of the table, laughing over plates heaped with food. Once they got settled, Martha turned to Bertie, shooting Ophelia a devilish look. "So, Bertie. I have quite the pressing question for you."

"And what is that?"

"You wouldn't happen to be missing a pair of cufflinks, would you? With the Highcaster coat of arms on them?" Martha giggled as Bertie gave her a bewildered look.

"Martha!" She glared at her, cheeks glowing bright red. "Leave him alone!"

"Not that I know of…" He eyed the both of them, before flashing his own matching pair, just like the ones in her nightstand.

"Aha!" Martha smacked the table, pointing at her and smiling smugly. "Guilty as charged!"

"I am _much_ too sober for this." Ophelia pushed back from the table, downing the rest of her drink. "If you'll excuse me…"

She left them sitting at the table, ears hot. She could hear Bertie's puzzled questions as she turned into the hallway, pushing through clusters of people towards the music outside.

Stepping through the doorway, her heart fluttered in surprise. The garden was absolutely beautiful. Hundreds of Japanese lanterns hung above her head, draped from the front of the house, hung on strings, hung in the trees hanging like stars and planets above their heads. She stepped forward, pushed from the doorway by emerging groups of people pouring outside. She wasn't sure where most of the people had come from, but she followed them from the entrance. A glossy floor was placed onto the gravel courtyard outside the front of the house, swarms of couples and even groups of friends already dancing to the noisy, brassy music.

She pushed through the crowds of people, all cast in a warm red glow from the lanterns. She stood on the tips of her toes, searching. Just across the way she saw a strand of high topped tables, presumably acting as a bar, fronted by a few servants doling out fancy drinks and bottles upon bottles of champagne. She figured it was as good of a bet as anywhere else. Squeezing her way through the groups of dancers she finally made it to the bar, as just as she suspected, William stood, leaning forward, with his elbows propped on the counter as he worked on his drink. Careful not to draw any attention from him, she snuck up behind him, snaking her hand discreetly into his pant pocket as she approached. He jumped, turning in surprise, but pleased to see her standing there.

"Did I scare you?" She asked hopefully, leaning against him.

"I don't know if scare is the right word." He laughed, pulling her hand from his pocket, "But I see you've made it downstairs, finally."

"Finally? The party's barely started!"

"True…" William waved down a servant who brought them two glasses of champagne. He turned to look at her once their glasses arrived. Without another word, his hands slipped around her waist as his lips made contact with her jaw, trailing along her neck. "But I've been waiting _desperately_ for your return."

"William!" She hissed, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, though her eyes examined the people around them. No one's eyes even drifted their way, as if the two of them weren't even there. His hands began trailing lower and lower on her spine and she had to push him off, her cheeks a flustered shade of pink. "That's quite enough…"

He watched her silently, his mouth twitching slightly, a smirk sitting on his lips.

She glanced around her, taking in all of the noise and revelry. She climbed onto one of the bar stools, getting a better look of the people all around them. William followed suit, pulling a stool close to hers. Across the way, she could see the source of the music, a large band, with drums, a piano, and plenty of loud, exciting instruments. To her surprise, fronting the band was an incredibly tall, handsome black man, crooning away in a sharp American accent. She looked at William in surprise, raising an eyebrow. For a stuffy bunch of aristocrats, they had awfully good taste.

"Harry and I go way back." He smirked, but left it at that.

She looked out to the crowd. Most were already drunk, partying as wildly as they wished, On one end, a fight was being broken up. On the other, A girl hung on the shoulders of two of her friends, laughing loudly and trying desperately to keep dancing. On the edges of the gravel, piles of rugs and cushions were piled with partygoers, lounging and laughing lazily. Some were playing card games and talking, others sat in a group, laughing and passing around an intricate looking pipe. People flocked to the bar they sat at, and others passed in and out of the house.

"So, what is all this?" She looked at him, shaking her head. "I've never seen such a party."

"In a crowd like this, it feels like you finally can be alone." He shrugged, leaning in closer. "I like big parties, and I like having a good time."

His hand, which had been on her knee, was slowly making it's way up her thigh. She blushed, her heart racing in her chest. The music had grown louder, and she spotted Martha and the others making their way outside. Without a second thought, she downed the rest of her champagne, and then, taking his glass, she gave him a quick kiss and finished it as well. "Well I love having a good time."


	29. Chapter 29

"Stop laughing at me!" She couldn't contain her own giggles, holding a hand over her mouth.

She sat perched on William's lap, her shoes kicked to the side, and his fingers trailing on her hips. No one else seemed to notice, or rather, didn't care enough to. The group of them sat comfortably on a pile of rugs and cushions, overlooking the party. A handful of others had joined their group during the night, including Edward, the oh-so secretive man she saw sitting with Martha during the game, who turned out to be not only a popular Marquess, but also William's best friend. The pair lounged across from them, passing a pipe between them, just like the group who had been sitting there before them.

"So." She wrapped her arm around William's neck. "You never answered my question from earlier. Did you actually invite _all_ of these people?"

"I don't know most of them," he shrugged, before being handed the pipe from Edward. "They just come and I just host."

"Doesn't that bother you? Having a bunch of strangers in your house?" She watched as he knocked out the pipe before carefully repacking it.

"I have a good staff. No one has the chance to steal anything, and nothing of value is left out to be broken." He shrugged, taking a moment to light it, before passing it to her. He cleared his throat and continued. "Besides, I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to steal from my family."

"You bet they aren't!" Bertie laughed heartily, clearly a bit more out of his wits than the rest of them.

"Don't act so tough, Bertie." Martha giggled.

Ophelia had already lost interest in the conversation, turning her attention to William. She tried to look as elegant as possible, drawing the pipe to her lips. She wasn't as experienced as some of the others at the party, but she had still been to plenty of parties in Paris that had garnered more than the usual curious look from her father upon her return home. Giving William a flirtatious look, she took a deep inhale from the pipe, only to have the smoke seize the back of her throat. She couldn't help but sputter into coughs and William began to laugh.

"Easy there, tiger." Her chuckled, rubbing her back as her coughs subsided.

She handed him the pipe and reached for her glass of champagne, hoping to quench the burning in her throat. After he took his turn, passing it along, and after her coughs finally dissipated, she turned back to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her ears were buzzing and she could feel his heartbeat traveling up her fingertips. She leaned against his chest, watching as he talked to the rest of the group.

"I have an idea!" Martha proclaimed suddenly, sitting on her knees and wobbling slightly. A glass of champagne sloshed in her hands. "I say we go for a swim!"

"A swim?"

"And where exactly do you propose we do that?" Ophelia laughed.

"In the pond, obviously." Martha rolled her eyes. "There's one on the edge of the estate. We used to play there when we were little, didn't we, William?"

"I remember." He seemed amused.

"Then a swim it is!" Martha stood, using Edward's shoulder as a grip. "Who is with me?"

"I don't have anything to swim in…" Margot finally spoke from the other end of the circle.

"That's why I plan on swimming in nothing at all." Ophelia couldn't help but giggle. "It'll be fun!"

"Well I'm going if anyone plans on joining me." Martha kicked off her shoes before stepping into the grass, away from the party.

"Wait for me!" She stood, ears ringing as all the blood rushed to her head. She felt as if she was floating on cloud nine. Using William's shoulder for balance, she bent to grab the half-empty champagne bottle. She gave William a devilish look, "Coming?"

"You don't have to ask me twice." He joined her, and the rest of the group followed suit.

It was a surprisingly short walk, the music growing quieter and quieter behind them. Their way was lit by the moonlight, millions of stars twinkling overhead. The grass was already dewy, soaking her bare feet as the made their way across the estate. Though the others were laughing and gossiping, she stayed focused on the walk. She ran her fingertips through the tall grass as they walked, pulling on the blades as she passed. She hummed softly, feeling the breeze move though the grass like waves around her.

"Come on, you."

She blinked in surprise as William touched her arm. The group was a fair bit ahead of her suddenly. William had a bemused smirk on his face.

"Distracted?" He chuckled. "Come on, want me to carry you?"

"Carry me?"

He turned, offering his back. "Come on, hop on. We can run, if you want."

"Well, if you say so…" She couldn't help but smile. She hiked her dress around her waist and hopped onto William's back, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, which he held in place. She held on tight to his neck, pressing a kiss to his ear. "Now! Go, go, go!"

Without any hesitation, he tightened his grip on her legs and jogged his way towards the group. She shrieked with laughter, trying her best to stay on his back. She held tighter to him, pressing her cheek against his head, giggling as he jogged easily past the group. Before long, he made it through a swath of trees and into a clearing. His jog slowed to a walk and he lowered her to the ground as the others caught up to them. She held onto his arm as she regained her balance, giggles finally subsiding.

"Whoah." She smiled, stepping forward to get a look. The lake was stunning, glistening brightly in the moonlight. On the end nearest them there was a small dock, to which a small boat was tied. Further away, an ornate bridge crossed over the water, leading from the gardens. She shot William a smirk as he tossed his jacket to the ground. The other men made a dash for the bridge, stripping off layers of clothing as they ran. She gave William a wink, and he ran after them as the girls helped each other club out of their dresses. She was glad she had picked the corset-free look, climbing easily out of her combinations, now completely exposed to the cool night air. On the bridge a few of the boys gave playful wolf-whistles, begging the girls to get in the water.

While some of the girls ran straight into the water, she made her way confidently towards the bridge, which the boys took turns showing off with dives and pushing each other from. Laughing, she made her way to the center, climbing onto the railing just as the others had. Below her, the boys splashed each other, pushing each other under the surface as the girls watched on, giggling.

"Hey!" She cried out to the boys, holding her hands on her hips, keeping her balance steady on the bridge. "Can you do this?"

She waited as the boys finally turned their attention to her, still chattering excitedly. She pulled the crystal comb from her hair, shaking out her updo until it fell around her shoulders. She tossed the comb to the ground before steadying herself again on the railing. With a deep breath, she positioned herself above the water before leaping from the ledge, hitting the water almost silently with a delicate dive.

Even though she tried to keep her execution dainty, she felt her body tense up as she was engulfed by the chilly water. She rose back to the top to the sound of rowdy cheers and splashing as some of the boys scrambled to dive off the bridge again. She brushed the wet hair from her cheeks, turning in the water, searching for William. She could see Martha and Edward swimming off on their own, and Bertie making a leap from the bridge, but William was nowhere to be seen.

As if on cue, she felt a tug on her ankle, pulling her down in the water. She let out a shriek, trying to kick away. As she struggled, what she realized as hands trailed up her body before William's head poked above the water, snaking his arms around her waist.

"Hey!" She smacked him on the shoulder, trying to wiggle away from him. "Let go!"

"I wouldn't dare." He smirked, pulling her body flush against his. He pressed his mouth against her neck, his lips radiating warmth in a way that made her spine tingle. Though he was smiling, there was a sincerity in his voice. She held him just a little tighter as his lips lingered beside her ear.

Even though they were surrounded by others, splashing, talking, or even tangled in eachother's arms as they were now, she couldn't help but feel more alone with him. As if the entire world faded away suddenly, and it was only she and him, gently kicking at the water as they stayed wrapped in each other's arms.

William pulled back, worried as if he had upset her. But she could only smile, pulling him back to her, and pressing her lips to his.


End file.
